This broken building of flint and stone
Was once a sturdy keep;
Now the hill on which it stands is overgrown
And grazed by sheep.
No coat of arms to greet a visitor,
No roof nor floor;
No guard protects the perimeter,
No servant at the door.
The ancient walls once solid and secure
Are damp and crumbled;
The towers from which damsels once lured
Knights have tumbled.
Bindweed and ivy are the only pennants
Flying from the walls;
Pigeons and rodents are the only tenants
Living in these halls.
© Kim M. Russell, 2016