The stones leaned sadly -
braced against one another,
seeming to forlornly weep
in their slow, dripping way...
The verdant blades
of spring grasses swayed
in gentle commiseration
against the tumbled walls.

Gone were the proud days
of wind-swirled pennons
waving gaily from atop
battle-hardened towers...
Gone were the rustling echoes
of silk and taffeta lace
worn by willow-wand ladies
sweeping through its corridors.

But the grace and majesty
of the silhouetted sunset
was worn with such dignity
upon its fallen battlements...
The feeling of tranquil peace
lingering about the ruins
was all that remained
with me as I moved on.

© 1991, Aaron Brown