Trapped In A Tower | Gothic Poetry

It was a vision so different from any other
dense swirling mists blocked out the sun,
bearing no semblance of what I remember,
she blended into her pale backdrop as one.

Her sandstone walls were high and mighty.
What dark spell could render a place so cold?
Who brought upon the curse of eternal winter
robbing the spindly trees of green, then gold?

The leaning tower so proud and grandiose -
its many eyes looked over the scenery afar;
now all lies hidden under a blanket of gloom,
blurred by the glare of the cold white star.

Many summers and winters, not long ago, 
we would watch the moonrise after the dark,
fall asleep to the symphony of rustling leaves,
and wake up to the warbling of a cheery lark.

My troubled mind paints harrowing scenes -
they creep into my dreams night after night.
Ever since your passing, the sun stayed still -
now gone what was once a much beloved sight.

I see the stones fall and the walls collapse;
the wraithlike silhouette fills me with dread.
There are no larks, only the cawing of ravens;
barren and skeleton roots rise from the dead.

My teary eyes erupt from this haggard scene -
where the tall spindly trees look morbid green;
should I let go forever and with her part ways -
in her cold embrace, live out rest of my days?

© Copyright: Leah Chrestien. January 2025.  The post ‘Trapped in a Tower’ first appeared on The Ecstatic Storyteller. The author reserves the right to the content. No reproduction of content in any form is permitted without the prior consent of the author.