Saturday, March 15, 2008

the castle

The castle is waiting for me;
Its spires touch the sky,
and my soul,
in ways I cannot say -
it waits.

The castle is calling me;
Its voice real to my ear,
though no one near
claims to hear -
it calls.

The castle is listening to me;
I know it listens,
though it never answers -
it haunts me
and taunts me.

The castle is reaching for me;
It has no arms or hands,
it is not living,
or breathing -
it just is.

The castle is waiting for me;
Its spires pierce me,
and my blood flows,
from the hole
in my heart.

©2008 Bobby Barnhart

2 comments:

Ron Barnhart said...

BobbyAre you originally from Pittsburgh, PaRon Barnhart

Ron Barnhart said...

Bobby

Are you originally from Pittsburgh, Pa?

Ron Barnhart