The Ghosts of August
We had such summer times here,
Laughing in the hall's hey day,
A season of endless cheer,
But now only shadows play
Too much, too long, wines turned sour,
The blue skies faded to grey.
But the place still has power,
And now only shadows play
Trapped by secrets, guilt and gloom,
Cant ever leave, doomed to stay,
Locked in echoes of lost rooms,
Now only our shadows play…
Painting - Autumn Glow by John Atkinson Grimshaw
Verse by Jim Moon
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