On White Castle Tower

On the west tower of White Castle,

An old couple nestles,

And through their aging, wizened eyes,

Become sentries, and seasoned spies,

They survey this slab, of lovely Gwent,

Together in warmth, and hearted content,

huddled together, in such sweet embrace,

No thought of age, of the late clock face.

Time, has been beaten here.

Turned back, and by this loving couple mocked,

though unalike the old walls and stairs, they crossed,

tired, worn, and out of breath,

rushed blood, pooling in their heads,

here they stood as newly weds.

They took in, all around,

Those sprawled, Welsh vista’s,

And as he unfurled the map, with his wife’s assistance,

They seemed to see, a fresh landscape,

Blacken hills, with sculpted nape.

We all will crumble quicker than the Keeps steeps,

As the air in our lungs, insidious carnage, reaps,

But that unconquered bastion, entwined

In heart, memory and in mind,

Was eternal, wondrous, forever there,

Atop the tower, west,

Of old , old, White Castle..