The Manor

Below displays
a lawn all made
un-pretty and
un-cut in shape.
A tree and hedge
stuck out abend
below the broken
roof I mend
go skritch and scratch
against the side
of hollowed headboards,
fences dyed.
I sit upon
the house of scares
and watch the children
unawares
of rocks and stones
thrown out among
a hidden castle
under sun.
They trail along
the straightened trim
of concrete laid
not quite akin.
A single daisy turns my way
and sees the ghastly lines displayed
as house turns horror
and appears
a ghost or demon
shadowed here.
The child then screams
and runs afar
to tell the story
to twinkling stars.
The day turns dark
and orbs rise out
alighting sky
and burning bright.
Revealing in
their jaded breath
they show the children
rise afresh.
A light goes on.
One house.
Now more.
A child sneaks out
and throws a score.
The group of kittens
flock around
my hidden castle
wondering about
the rumoured secret
of the day
they heard between
spilt milk and hay.
One comes around
and pokes the rest
as urging some
to take the test.
They creep up slowly,
watching close
as I soon beckon
to the rose.
The gate swings open:
a grand array
of welcome brought
and stuffy grey.
The children inch
before they froze.
At doorway's mat
we bring to close
the story brought
before you, chance
you want some more?
The scenes soon dance.