The Mysterious Yard

The Mysterious Yard

By Thomas Sarigiannidis


Oh, I was there that evening
In that isolated, enchanting yard
I do recall, as I was breathing,
How my sanity became thus marred

The solitude and stillness of it,
Remarkable as I have felt,
No light or fire was nearby lit
No sign of others hereby dwelt

And such peculiar shadows about,
Of what nature could they be?
The eerie rustlings, without a doubt,
Whisper of a great oak tree.

These great stones that surround me
Tell of tales long forgotten,
I wonder how this intense glee
Could be so ill-begotten?

For to feel rapture in such place,
Is surely the mark of a mind thus scarred,
As this mysterious yard, in this case,
Is a long-forsaken graveyard