POEM (052) Cardboard castle

Cardboard castle

 
Standing proud and high,
magnificent turrets reaching the sky,
from a distance the crowd in awe,
of the beauty and perfection they saw.

Golden sun upon luscious green trees,
bubbling water for soaking your knees,
warmth and radiance glittering through,
the crowd descended towards the hew.

The grass bore hard upon dry feet,
the fields in drought bore no wheat,
the leaves shed from acres of oak,
the smell, the crowd, began to choke.

The bluebirds fell into the black,
the chords of the music in much dire lack,
the blazing sun evaporating the brook,
the crowd, open eyed, could finally look.

The walls of stone, mirage, cardboard,
upon stick thin supports to no award,
held on with glue, duct tape and string,
the crowd’s minds, bells, they ring.

The turrets swayed as dying silver birch,
in winds so mild they swayed and they lurch,
the windows of Clingfilm bore creases divine,
the crowd, in dispute, failure decline.

As men and women came forth to see,
from afar, was thought, complete beauty,
this castle, this wall, this remarkable sight,
fall down, decline, in natural light.

Standing proud and high,
magnificent turrets reaching the sky,