Shadows on the Wall

Song-like poem.

Maybe it was there, or maybe it wasn't, Maybe it's the truth, or maybe it's all a lie. A place unexplored, its existence forgotten, Where hops intermingle with rye.

The old castle now stands in disrepair, Its glory days fading into the past. Centuries gone by like a fleeting air, A memory of strength that couldn't last.

The castle's stained glass windows shattered into pieces, The floors are dark and deserted like a disease, And the tower long home for the rooks.

But once in half a century, at the midnight hour, Like a miracle, like a mystery hidden from us, Animated shadows flock to the candle ball's nooks.

Whether in reality or in a dream, Shadows dance on the wall it seems, At midnight, sleep is out of sight.

In the pale moonlight's eerie gleam, From century to century, it would seem, Gloomy faces waltz through the night.

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