Sarum

Ancient city, built up brick by keystone brick,

foundation to crenallation,

forged from

sweat, blood and time.

It rises in the landscape,

steep gradient, fit only for sheep to climb

bathed in summer sun.

Hilltop fort,

remnant of earlier lives,

where the whispers of the past

resound roundly in mote and bailey.

 

A short poem exploring Old Sarum, an interesting place rich in history which I’ve enjoyed visiting since I was a little girl. 

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