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Elizabethan manor house beneath a bleak October sky; where black crows call from moss-stained trees and hapless leaves hang where they died. No breath, nor breeze, despoils the day that fades now in its lowered gloom; beset with clouds, a weakling sun casts little light into the room. Through mullion windows’ diamond panes a manicured garden lays; in muted fading colours now, with mem'ries of hot summer days. Electric candles flicker gold, from panelled walls gaunt portraits stare; old Lords and Ladies long since dead, view everyone without a care. And as the guide concludes his tour and visitors head for their bus; a small child glances back to where he made an ice-cream-spilling fuss. In black and satin stands a man, his doublet slashed with crimson fine; a drooling wolfhound at his side, he bows in mockery, divine.
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Oct 30, 2020
Oct 30, 2020 at 10:24 AM UTC
The Annual Visit . .
Elizabethan manor house beneath a bleak October sky; where black crows call from moss-stained trees and hapless leaves hang where they died. No breath, nor breeze, despoils the day that fades now in its lowered gloom; beset with clouds, a weakling sun casts little light into the room. Through mullion windows’ diamond panes a manicured garden lays; in muted fading colours now, with mem'ries of hot summer days. Electric candles flicker gold, from panelled walls gaunt portraits stare; old Lords and Ladies long since dead, view everyone without a care. And as the guide concludes his tour and visitors head for their bus; a small child glances back to where he made an ice-cream-spilling fuss. In black and satin stands a man, his doublet slashed with crimson fine; a drooling wolfhound at his side, he bows in mockery, divine.
al-drood
Written by
M/North Yorkshire
Oct 30, 2020
Oct 30, 2020 at 10:24 AM UTC
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