Lonely cottage, high in the hills,
For centuries a home, derelict today.
Echoes of history, looking over my shoulder
Feels I’m intruding, in my modern way.
I’ve a job to do, set aside the ghosts
Searching for bats, swallows take part.
Stepping with care, timbers have rotted,
Wavering torchlight, thumping heart.
Take a deep breath, focus on searching,
A crumbly dropping, fallen from where?
A hundred crevices, decay and collapse,
More droppings found, ghosts quietly stare.
Not enough jigsaw, the picture’s unclear,
Sunset and dawn, to fill in the gaps.
Apologies ghosts, I’ll disturb you again,
Or could it be, I amuse you perhaps?
No comments:
Post a Comment