Unvisited by Us, Unknown

Unvisited by Us, Unknown

This town should not contain
a gothic paradise
of fountain and of garden.
Rusty balustrades flake
with the passion of screams
from beyond the decayed walls,
before the arrival
of monks or broken minds.

Overgrown gardens crawl
with weeds and dead grass.
Centrepieces of fountains
are now dry gravestones.

Ivy grips its way up turrets
ancient as in fairytales.
Awnings flap like old ghosts
protecting the battlements.

Unvisited by us, unknown –
Twyford Abbey – three stops away.

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