Thursday, April 21, 2011


There’s a crumbling old stone castle
On a hilltop up the way
Where the grass grows long
In windswept tufts
Of gold and green and grey

Sometimes when we pass by there
I hear that wind rush by
It howls through the broken turrets
Lifting dust into the sky

I try to cast my mind back
To how it must have been
Sleeping in that proud behemoth
Underneath a great oak beam

We’d build a roaring fire
In the hearth to warm our feet
Wear gowns and robes and blankets
We’d drink tea to feel the heat

Perhaps a woolen bed cap
Might help me to drift away
Keeping me so snug until 
My dreams were underway.

I dearly love the imposing view
Of that castle on the hill
It seems to have always been there
And I hope it always will

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