Sitting atop a hill of grass,

I saw a castle on a mountain,

With bits of brick and stone and brass,

And marble courtyard fountains.

Wildflowers ran along the side of the mountain.

I heard the roar of a waterfall.

Vines worked their way through the cracks of the structure,

And flourished on the walls.

A wooden bridge had collapsed from rotting;

Its decayed debris scattered across the dried river floor.

The sun beamed high in the sky,

Feeding the vines and the flowers they bore.

Walking away I took one glimpse back,

And tried to imagine before the cracks…