Friday 3 April 2015

THE GHOSTS OF OLD BUILDINGS:


As I tiptoe past the wrecks & ruins of old sepia walls,

I hear footsteps dancing, through salons & roomy halls,

Those Long forgotten voices, singing melancholic tunes,

Dead & buried lovers, serenading sad & ghostly moons.

 

Cracked rafters sickly peeling, mere home to black bats,

Buildings haunted by owls & the scuttling of ginger rats,

History´s brick stitchings, now coming untidily undone,

Unraveling uneasy senses, with the rising of new sun.

 

Green ivy trembling, upon fetid breath of iced breeze,

Chanting of dead monks, static in long deceased freeze,

Grey mists clinging to domes & whispering old steeples,

Buildings with secrets, taken to graves of forgotten people.

 

 

 

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