Empty windows like a mouth agape
A vaccinated vacuum
Glassless pane
The dry taste in the mouth
Bitter medicine for Cholera victims
Is the bitterness of regret
It is the house of sadness
Not easy to forget
Elder bushes and nettles grow
Without its walls
Through its doors
The rain runs
Leaching into cracks in the floor
Few roof tiles remain of its once proud mantel
Chimney stacks and triangular wall ends
Sand like pyramids and statues
The relics of a mighty, bygone empire
Only Flat Holm will recover all in time
This hill in the sea sings its reclamation rhyme
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