By the house where I
Lived my first two years
Stood a barn that a hundred years ago
Held pigs and horses.

The swallows sang me to sleep.
I can still smell the barnhouse that
Only held a Massey-F tractor by then.
All things change,

Some places more than people.
But the swallows don't care.
Neither they, nor the barn or
I are there. Anymore.