Friday, 4 October 2013


Cracked windows, old walls & sepia ceilings,
Where bats nest between soft-clad peelings,
Ancient wooden pillars & forgotten beams,
Where old dust smiles upon shadowy seams.

Black ravens now visit, where no man treads,
Dead roam low, where the living now dreads,
The hoot of owls & damp mould cool seeping,
Over grey stones, where old ivy´s now creeping.

Laughter long-lost, upon the echoing of wailings,
Where red-rust, hot whispers & kisses old railings,
The tiptoeing footsteps, of those ghosts now gone,
Icy weeping of maidens, where the sun once shone.

Now the living have gone, but cold life´s still sighing,
Amongst mossy green walls & dry blooms sad dying,
Scents of abandoned gardens & old dead tombs,
Melodic voices waltzing, around old loved rooms.

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