Last standing Alcazar

Last standing Alcazar short poem

Rotten wrought iron gate,
opens to a compound in decay,
nature trying to encroach
on what was stolen from her,
the dilapidated walls,
the creepers gone haywire,
the smell of bereavement,
the stone bench
covered by moss,
no place to sit,
no place to stand,
no place to relive the glory,
no place to feel again,
the Alcazar is in ruins.
The Alcazar of someone’s dreams,
it once knew the best there was,
it once was adorned by love,
once it knew peace too,
but now in its annihilation,
it has no one dwelling,
except for a few
casual, bemused or sentimental visitors
who come back,
looking for their past.
But the Alcazar never cries,
never heeds to sorrow,
never screams,
It has lived its day of glory
and still stands tall,
welcoming all and none,
with the same warmth
as it always did..

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Zyborg

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Nothing enthralls me anymore, Nothing surprises me anymore, I know not the depth of my own soul, nothing allures me anymore..............
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