The Manse On the Moors
Tall iron gates
That mutter of authority
Beyond which lie fields
Barren and bleak
Fence of stone topped with
Crenellations of Ravens
Keeping watch with keen eyes
Above leaf shrouded creek
The manor of grey stone
That rears all alone
And lies atop
The rise…
The windows tight shuttered
Cause one to shudder
At their semblance
To moribund eyes
The long neglected lane
Now approaches in vain
The portico thru which
No one enters
Save spectres that scream
Silently…hauntingly and seem
As fleeting as wishes
…in a dream…
Copyright © David O'Haolin Whalen | Year Posted 2015
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