Lady Alma St Fillan
(The Ghost of Finlarig Castle)
As I approach the fearsome fortress,
My Castle, resting in the wooded knoll:
Its awesome square towers are silhouettes
Against the deepening dusk;
The red sun is setting on the silvery water,
That laps against the boundary of the loch.
Barefoot, I slowly pass by My Gavin’s grave.
There is another, entitled Lady Alma; where I lay.
Ivy and moulding, wet leaves grab at my feet and I push my
Through tangled, moss enthroned branches, which sway
And groan and want me, I know, to be away.
The dank, weathered walls are cold and, with the mist now
Rising, I turn and, espy the bridge low
Against the horizon, that is now almost a memory;
In the darkness, before the moon must surely show
Itself I will walk right through the wall,
And back, through the ages, in My Home.
© Karen Philpott, 2007
(also published on WikidWords site)