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The castle’s flying flags half-mast,
As reminders of the times gone past,
Blood was shed here, so were tears,
Down throughout the tragic years.
A kingdom torn apart by war,
It’s king who died upon the floor,
His young queen left to carry on,
Right until her heart gave in.

The queen ordered the flags to fly half-mast,
Grieving for happy times now past.
Her family’s dead yet she remains,
Driven, grief-stricken and tired of the pain.
Her loss remains a gaping hole,
A blade in her ribs, a wound in her soul,
She stares out from her heavy drapes,
Gaze resting on the tired landscape.

The castle’s flags are flying half-mast,
Once admired and now bypassed.
The barren ground is bare and brown,
Scorched where once there stood a town.
Heroes and questing knights died here,
To their suff’ring was turned a deaf ear.
Ghosts and souls linger and mourn,
Deprived of the life that was theirs, are forlorn.

The castle flies its flags half-mast,
A memory of the times just passed,
Armies fighting, thousands strong,
Fighting that went on and on.
The aftermath is cold and grey,
The endings of a darker age,
But in amongst the darker gloom,
A flower sprouts and begins to bloom.


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The following comments are for "The Castle"
by Ez

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