The Leaving

I will leave this house
these tall towers that were built
to last forever
these tall towers that are now broken
and crumbling shattered
and cracked by storms
from without and within

Carved words worn by time
no longer legible
no longer have meaning
meaning forgotten

Empty rooms with crated memories
hold no warmth
hold no cold
in haunted hallways muffled echos
no longer sound
no longer enough
no longer compel

Wooden doors silently swing open
these doors that kept the world
at bay open to the unknown beckon
weathered stone steps worn by
countless footsteps
smooth stone steps
lichens and moss colouring
small silent cracks

Pale moon in a pale sky
shadowed trees silent sentinels
to soundless footsteps
following Phoebe's light
on a misted path

I will leave quietly

and let it rain...