Ruins

Vines crawling, creeping over
This grey facade of stone
They once called home.
Sneaking in and out to bind and tether,
Or capture this landmark forever.
There, once a night- light shone
Through window sockets that now seem smaller,
Mere mossy apertures, beckoning the sun
With half closed eyes of grey-green tone.
And within, a solitary spider
Rides the pale ethereal ray of sunlight's glimmer,
Claiming his space, disturbed by none,
A space bequeathed by a generation gone,
Consumed by the flames of raging fire
That spared not even one.
Now only the fingers of decay will linger
Within these walls alone.