by: Claudia Ghaderpoor
She stands, defiant, against the ravages of time
As accursed souls wail beneath her decaying majesty.
Centuries turned, took with them her prime,
Now here she dwells in farcical travesty.
That of triumph, of eternal grandeur,
Of intrigues, and scandals, and courtly austere—
And of fantasies tucked into shriveled velour,
Swept in desolation, crumbles Willowmere!
Kommentare