Whitby Abbey
The dying rays of the evening sun
Light up ruined spires one by one
While early bats flit through empty portals
Forsaken in the night by mortals
Left to the ghosts of centuries gone
Whitby Abbey still lives on
Did Stoker's Dracula ever pass this way
Hiding from the light of day
Landing on this Yorkshire shore
Penned by Stoker in days of yore
Did he from that Victorian pen
Bring a chill to those Yorkshire men?
The silent Abbey now stands by
Pointing ancient fingers to the sky
What other spirits from centuries past
Within these crumbling walls amass
But come the day when night has fled
No more bats fly overhead
Instead the tourist come to stare
Leaving litter everywhere.
Poetry by Toonist
Read 848 times
Written on 2011-09-29 at 00:21
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