Arnol

Empty windows look out on the yellowed grass
Panes blown out in a forgotten gale
Tiles disappearing from the roof
But no one is caring

The ocean thunders onto distant cliffs
A moving wreath around the western coast
An army of white riders incessantly
assail the crumbling fortress that is shore

Sagging poles carry rusting wire
No longer delineating the patch
of infertile, poor, unsustaining ground
where once cattle and sheep grazed

The door has gone, a void beyond
Another frame behind, also unshuttered
Countless rocks from the empire of
sonte, yet choked with rocks the ground remains

Walls stand up, bewildered now that
the roof has vanished, perhaps
a beam remains, collapsed into
the ruin below

A squall blows in, the scene darkens
no shelter here, in the old dwelling
an echo of years gone by
left as an in memoriam

Fled the yoke of the man in the castle
his cruel minions who cared not
to improve the lives of those
he was in charge of caring for

A distant gun echoes, multiplying the life it took
by countless millions, including
those who answered the call
from the humble abodes out here

Now crumbling slowly, remembering
the golden days of long sunshine and warmth
laughter, singing, merry-making
love, kinship and bonds

Some crossed the seas for better lives
Never to return to the humble home
Looking down to the shoreline below
Remembering all who departed