Hi peaked castles of gray,
reaching up to the sky.
Flag dancing atop a high tower,
Petals on the medieval flower.
Glades of green forming rows
Forests surviving nature’s cruel blows
Thinning out approaching the murky
depths of a moat, menacing and irky.
Inside the rambling halls,
Ancestors beam from the walls,
Smiling at slabs of stone,
A battlefield holds his bone.
Out at back, live the livestock
And of course the nobleman’s crop
Shabby huts of hired hands,
Unfortunate not to own lands.
Curving around comes the moat,
Upon which dead me float.
And the tall pines
Give way to shrubs and splintering cocoons
Twisted parasitic vines
Etching the landscape’s evil runes.
Here lie men
Here lie soldiers
Town’s fates lay upon their shoulders.