Ruins at Crow Edge

Cresting on the rising swell of fields,
a rotting hulk of stone and wood.
Soil lapping at your walls,
time dissolves you slowly.

What noises once echoed around your crumbling byres,
laughter, braying and shouts.
Dim, receding memories fly from your crumbling walls,
like the crows nesting in your cracks.

Steps suspended, no longer climbed,
your roof no longer mended.
Once a stern steward, now helpless,
as the green swell pulls you under.

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