Xillus_Xavier
09-25-2012, 07:18 PM
Grandpa's Barn
Castle of cedar,
Camelot of my youth,
moans in the stiff morning breeze
of late September,
its facade crumbling,
grand hall bare; a tin-roofed
turret of fond memories
overtaken by undergrowth.
The royal courtyard
of a ten year old prince
is now a dusty corral;
the watchtower a mere hayloft.
And the livestock pens,
they're minus prisoners;
grandpa's bovine rapscallions
long pardoned to greener pastures.
But the brown feed pan
I once wore for a crown
still hangs on the tool shed door.
Heavy-hearted, I take it down.
The bulldozer starts.
The sound of its engine
frightens away the robins
nesting in the broken gables.
I, cracked crown in hand,
signal the driver;
gesture for him to proceed;
watch my kingdom fall.
Castle of cedar,
Camelot of my youth,
moans in the stiff morning breeze
of late September,
its facade crumbling,
grand hall bare; a tin-roofed
turret of fond memories
overtaken by undergrowth.
The royal courtyard
of a ten year old prince
is now a dusty corral;
the watchtower a mere hayloft.
And the livestock pens,
they're minus prisoners;
grandpa's bovine rapscallions
long pardoned to greener pastures.
But the brown feed pan
I once wore for a crown
still hangs on the tool shed door.
Heavy-hearted, I take it down.
The bulldozer starts.
The sound of its engine
frightens away the robins
nesting in the broken gables.
I, cracked crown in hand,
signal the driver;
gesture for him to proceed;
watch my kingdom fall.