VIEW FROM THE WINDOW.

Descended for a while into an austere entity,

As silence beckons to give reign to my enforced reverie,

The four walls serve as my cloak,

Communication's taken a rear seat travelling without  power into 

far remote,

Looking out off the window which a noted gentleman may once

have observed from,

I move my sights like a telescope to look beyond,

In between the characters of my optic tree-lined vision the mind

insists in settling on,

And see the magnificent sight of the magical Tor with its tower up

yonder,

Stretching its wondrous glory to the sky whilst I hasten to ponder,

What ancient time had passed it by?

What romantic stories, legends of chivalry and sorcery of masters

had filled its pagan skies?

The age of Avalon coated in splendour stirring the atmosphere

With enchantments of magic, mystique and mythical wiles,

Taunting the imagination with fiction, as gallant truths seep through

eerily abound with curt smiles

emerge precociously in a mental masquerade told by bards around

an old historical fire,

And the ruins of the Abbey nearby, invites its charm to one's eyes as 

the underlying power coaxes all into it being seen,

The last step taken before returning home, back to a daily grind in a

grounded routine.