The Ivy Prince

Oh deep in woodland heart,

strew ash of stone descends.

Amongst the knitted knots,

faint contour does so fend.

The fragment castle ancient;

a shallow grave dwells sleep.

From panes of shard in split,

abandoned sill does weep.

The throne of moth rules bite,

in plague of Kingdoms wreck.

Observed in mournful watch;

kneels prince they did forsake.

Bygone, fall years of grandeur;

now hand in frail does clutch.

Entrapped through ivy’s poison;

deprived of splendours touch.

Cascading leaf masked green,

does tarnish stain on crown.

From lawless orders ruling,

decay holds court in frown.

With trickery, seeds did plot,

their breeding binds of sway.

Abstaining regal standing,

through capture of dismay.

Within the shell of decompose,

how palace wails out wince.

For in condemn of weeded fate,

does sprout the ivy prince.

©Brett Kristian 2019