LIKE CASTLE WALLS ON MASS…by Elizabeth Grace Lucas
O, a village so refined, reminders of ancient past,
Stone houses on the hillside, built to forever last,
Narrow streets and narrower roads difficult for traffic to pass,
Sloping rooftops, an old lit lamp, like castle walls on mass.
Trees of green, gloriously grow just out of town,
And in gardens on the hillside, where locals own,
An arch way down the hill, once hackney carriage did ride,
Pulling people of the village like a taxi, stopping by the side
Of the road, chimneys smoke with fires,
Side gates to gardens, and children who were liars,
Broken down are the rooftops, slates coming from the roof,
Listen for the horses, a clip clopping with their hoof.
Steps are worn and tatty in this glorious street,
Windows lean outward, you hear the people’s feet
Tapping on the footway, leading down the hill,
No shops to buy at this landmark, to give one a thrill.