The Manor

The silence of the clocks
doors bolted at the locks.
windows closed up tightly
curtains, not drawn nightly.
The manors walls stand cold now
with dreams of laughter lost
the still air full of memories
of days spent bathed in frost
and summer evenings, gleaming
in the dusks lingering light
now the boney hand of solitude
touches every sight.
The kitchen table bare
and cupboards void of fare
and empty chairs can only stand, and stare
and wait in silent air.
alone now is the manor
where once did stand a home,
now an empty shell,
bricks and mortar wait alone.
The garden sits unkept,
where once our youth had crept.
The unloved grass
and hidden paths
seem only to forget,
the life that it once saw,
and all the dreams it bore,
and every mornings glory
played out on perfect skies
backed by dawn birds chorus,
as the sun does rise.

Goodbye now to the manor
it's time to wait alone
with no one left to sit and hear
the floorboards as they groan
farewell to the manor
to all the times we've known
the magic of the river
in all it's ebbs and flows.
The ever stirdy mantel
above the fires glow
the dull but homely echoe
of footsteps as they go.
The scrape of wooden feet
along the kitchen floor
the ever welcome noise
of the old front door.
The clinking of the gate
forever now must wait,
goodbye to the manor
resigned now to your fate
no warming fires burn
in the old charred grate.
who knows what's in our futures
or where they both shall lead.
Farewell to the manor,
it's time that i was free'd
from the magic of your charms
and the spells you've put on me.

Ricky Glew