The Castle, Once

The Cold hunts the barren vein-like corridors,

Once laden with paintings and fabrics by those long ago,

Stripped bare of warmth and comfort

 

The bitter chill piercing its rattling bones,

Once supported by those long ago, 

Battered into submission with callous intent

 

Its skin, covered in scars from ancient battles now forgotten,

Once touched warmly by those long ago,

Grayed and numbed against the frozen exposure

 

The lifeless ground under its wary feet,

Once stood on by those long ago,

Crumbled under the weight of the desensitising entity

 

Cold stalks the barren artery-like corridors,

Once warded off by those long ago,

Praying on its new, struggling victim

 

But, somewhere

Deep in its ribcage, a shimmer of hope

A tiny vacuum, untouched by the Cold, still warm

 

Walls and floors still decorated, clad in warmth and comfort,

A solemn fireplace, preserving the tiny space,

Sewn with affable desire

 

Ever waiting for someone to stoke the fire,

And ward off the Cold,

Before the Cold muffles the silent cries, forever consuming its heart

 

Unlike those that abandoned long ago, 

Pushed away by the vitriolic Cold, 

Plagued by the invisible; 

 

The fire fades...