The Yard

Salacious ghosts cross “the yard”

manacled ankles with clanking chains

that ping the stone walls,

as they pore over a mirrored sea of dregs.

Along the walls, emptied towers.

Thousands upon thousands peered

between the now-rusted bars,

to lap the air of freedom.

Only to embrace eternity

from the inside…for their sins.

Burned red bricks and fallen facades,

the few who smiled are gone.

And from another view, other ghosts

wander aimlessly and gaze

at the spreading skyline…years drift by.