The castle

 

Dominating the landscape from high,

On a granite hilltop, foundations solid.

The lord of all it surveys,

All around it the earth was squalid.

 

Walls four feet thick and sky high,

This giant with a skin like iron.

Towers like the tallest tree trunks,

King of its territory, feared as a lion.

 

Flags of gold and purple overhead,

Stamped with a fire breathing dragon.

Fluttering in the abrasive wind,

Never letting the rulers be forgotten.

 

Ivy trying to ascend the defences height,

Failing to reach half way up.

The stone wall half a mile high,

Hundreds of years they’ll stay up.

 

A town thriving in these solid walls,

A vein of spring water pumping in life.

Pushing up from far below the ground,

Calving it open like a razor sharp knife.

 

Farmers with carts ladened high with food,

Fed the castles iron mouth.

They came from near and far,

All directions, east west north and south.

This race of masters in a foreign land,

Ruling with steel fist.

Journeyed from a dying home,

Of which no settler once missed.

 

Establishing themselves as the new royalty,

With this prominent site,

An impenetrable mighty fortress,

Armed and ready for a bloody fight.

 

Whether they assaulted with slings and arrows,

Or a titanic trebuchet,

The immovable and impenetrable defences,

Protected the settlers, kept attackers at bay.

 

This stone beast has devastating talons,

Archers on the ramparts and a catapult that always hits.

Anyone who nears it,

Will end up in bits.

 

Every attack anticipated,

Perfect plans put in place,

This airtight stronghold,

Protecting its conquering race.

 

Another ordinary misty night,

Somewhere in late September,

An insignificant event occurred,

That everybody will remember.

 

A tiny mouse squeezed through the gate,

With some companions on his back,

He made his way to the life giving well,

As his blood turned an inky black,

 

Staggering through the hectic hoard,

His mind becoming intensely vague,

Automatically drawn to the pure spring water,

His body filled with deadly plague.

 

Climbing over the short walls of the spring,

He stood on the edge of the well,

His last breath remained unseen,

As this poor mouse staggered and fell.

 

The splash was as quiet as a mouse,

The plague leeched out like a tea bag,

Multiplied a thousand times a day,

Getting into the wells deepest darkest crag.

 

The next few weeks the water was used ,

Quenching thirsts of men and women alike,

Every day was like the one before,

Until the potent poison began to strike.

 

The virus spread like wild fire,

Ruthless like an assassin in the night,

Ripping the heart out the mighty castle,

Tearing it down from its towering height.

 

The golden banners fell like match sticks,

The tree trunk towers toppled in the breeze,

The iron gates rusted in the heavy rain,

The ivy conquered the walls with natural ease.

 

This dominating granite hillside still stands,

With mighty oaks brushing the sky,

Nature ruling this timeless landscape.

Leafy green sawing banners will forever fly.

 

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