An older poem I wrote for fun about a year ago. Thought it would be worth a repost. I had fun writing it, I hope you have fun reading it!
Westerfall
Ancient walls of quarried stone, resist the wind which oft does moan, through the stables and empty hall, of the crumbling castle of Westerfall.
A once proud fortress, upon the ridge, guarding the surround with wall and bridge, now worn and weathered, with no one to mend, the damage from years of rain and wind.
Where safety was sought and wares were sold, and rulers fought other lords of old, sparrows now nest and rats command, ruined buildings, forgotten land.
Sun that once shined on armor and mail, illuminates nothing, not even the tale, of how a proud castle finished its days, sinking to obscurity, shadow, and haze.
Barren and lonesome, no one remains, to sing the castle's sorrows and pains, except the wind, which oft does moan, over solemn walls of quarried stone.