Beyond the rolling hills.

Behind the rusted gate

Standing still and lonely

are the remains of the old estate

With her creaky warn floorboards

And partial plastered walls

Memories from another time

Linger down the lifeless halls

In the back of the estate

One attic windows stands alone

Behind iron bars a ghostly shadow moans and groans

I do recall despite them all

Forty years to this date

As I drift along the soldiered pines

along the shore of the lake

They say time has a way of revealing things

Calling all things into light

Perhaps time to let go of a ghost that haunts me

in my nightmares night after night

I write my ending quickly  

As rain threatens my recorder

thinking about  enquiring minds

and my life as it's reporter

An old x marks the spot

on an old dead Pine

As I pull back the thicket

of creeping green vines

An unmarked grave

Still a curse to me

of a life taken

a life that just could not be

Driving out of the estate

I stop the car and look around

the place so empty and dark

acres of trees all around

I see the rusted Ax leaning against the old shed

Deciding some of these stories

Were better left with the dead..

RATE THIS BRANCH!

"Vlad."..

excerpt from History of a Bird-Boy   by annexarchist