A lonely house and willow sits atop a hill
And yonder the graves on a cliffside ground
In the yard they lie all howling at night
As the bounty for he who has lost them all
A family of which he must unite
To answer their yearnful and plaintive call…
With a toil of the stone his grave embrace
In arms he carried it back to his home
And by the house he built he would be placed
Henceforth, walls weighed heavy with creak and moan…
…But above house and yard their howls had grown…
Her grave was light with fairness in death
With her in his arms home he flew
Where she used to sing to the birds in breath
Neath the willow where all their feathers would strew
…And thro hills and meadows the howls louder anew…
The doll with marbled eyes lied bare
Her grave in his trudge bereft of flight
While neath the willow a grave would pair
Its eyes shimmered throughout the night
…But thro mountains and vistas rang the howling’s plight…
But heaviest of all was his brother’s grave
Tugged with a rope and perched on his back
Homeward he went but a sudden crack
Rock and earth from below would cave
He sprung away from the cliffside edge
But by the drop of the stone he sunk the ledge
The rope entangled around his neck
And as the grave plummeted to the sea below
He was torn along to the howling’s woe…
In time, the house gave in to creak and moan
And in its collapse defiled the father’s stone
The willow aglow in thunderous smite
As their names were erased in the fiery light
The doll’s eyes which shimmered in the nightly dark
Were plucked by a raven in the light so stark
And The Collector’s rite, their howling screams
Had come to an end as well as his dreams…
17th March, 2024