Sitting atop a hill of grass,
I saw a castle on a mountain,
With bits of brick and stone and brass,
And marble courtyard fountains.
Wildflowers ran along the side of the mountain.
I heard the roar of a waterfall.
Vines worked their way through the cracks of the structure,
And flourished on the walls.
A wooden bridge had collapsed from rotting;
Its decayed debris scattered across the dried river floor.
The sun beamed high in the sky,
Feeding the vines and the flowers they bore.
Walking away I took one glimpse back,
And tried to imagine before the cracks…