A whisper
single, lingering
a grace upon my cheek.
Grey shadow, lurking
beyond corners and
pillars that bear these
old walls.
Painting a mystery,
the portrait of one afraid
in my reflection.
Moonlight cascading
through Clerestory's and
historical punctures.
Revealing a feudal throne; who
from his motte,
an overseer,
a beacon.
Now
Alone.
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