moving slowly, lowly
eyes glued to the topiary
snow fills sides and winds
following one everywhere they glide

a shadow of light
a son shining bright
dull boys
red walls
similar rum

a beating drum doused in oil
a boiler
a hissing hose coiled
and the spoiled sting of blades gone astray

all accompanied by the lingering tray of an old fool’s ash
sauntering with you along in the walls
tobacco and stairs now complimenting the hairs of some dog
one that bites and barks
your third

now 217
swirling in green, a dead woman’s tub
the mutt is back
licking and lapping at the sin
whiskey sliding down your cheeks and chin
his laugh paired with your now crazed grin
confirming the horror you knew to be true

this castle?
why, dear sir,
you must be mistaken
I fear, you and yours, have always
lived here