Feb 2
The castle was her sanctuary, calm and formidable.
It creaked in the wind, and shuddered in the shade.
The castle was a fortress, built many years ago.
But she found it yesteryear, upon Somerset.
On a broken stair, is where she found her feet.
Looking out at rolling hills, and a flock of sheep.
Never had silence sounded so peaceful.
A silence not laced with a poisonous fare.
All on her own, she didn't seem to mind.
Out in the country sun, she laid her head down.
The castle was her sanctuary, calm and formidable.
It pegged her still, and let her sleep, in steady company.
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Poetry For The Lost People
Poetry365 observations and comments about society, life and love throughout 2022. Come with me on my journey day by day, as I write what I've always wanted to say. There is no method or planning, just thoughts and perceptions about the way of the world. A...
