Friday, February 10, 2012

Remember the Castle

If we lived in a castle, buttresses and stain glass cast in yellow moonshine, warmth slipping away through stonework, darlin you and I could slip. If the castle were big enough, we could see it from the places we wisp through, and remark to one another, remember the castle where we lived? But eventually we will reach a place where we do not remember, and it is no longer the castle we lived in, it is only a castle, cold, empty, not a home.