Manor

In the hush of twilight’s amber gleam,
The manor stands, a stone‑bound dream,
Its turrets rise where ivy clings,
A silent hymn the soft wind sings.

Pan‑glassed windows catch the waning light,
Reflecting gardens draped in night,
Where rosemary sighs and lavender sighs,
And ancient oaks keep watchful eyes.

Footsteps echo on flagstone floors,
Whispers drift through cloistered doors,
Each room a tale, each hearth a friend,
Where laughter lingers, sorrows bend.

Yet time, like mist, will softly creep,
Turning grandeur into sleep,
But in the heart of countryside,
The manor’s spirit will abide.