The rain comes down as soon as I
step from the car into its time.
The crying of a peacock lends
an eerie chill, disturbs my spine.

Forgotten gardens, ruined mansions,
midnight strolls and walking statues.
This shell reminds me of the dramas
that wrote the landscape of my childhood.

I half expect to see the ghost
of Queen Elizabeth drift by
the corner of my eye, as I,
survey the walls and roofless ceilings.

We walk in hushed, respectful tones
to navigate its sandstone bones,
and roam within its fading grandeur,
and marvel at this skeletal wonder.

Today we called in on Kirby Hall on the way to visit my parents. An amazing building.
(28.05.25)

© Ben Quant 2025