"All that mankind has done, thought, gained or been: it is lying as in magic preservation in the pages of books."
-Thomas Carlyle

by Paul Lytle

At Warwick Castle, years ago,
we played hide-and-seek
in the towers and on allure —
annoying kids that felt its spirit
as purely as any learned professor,
only without the patience
to smile and study
and let the beauty move us.
We pretended to be knights,
fighting on the stair,
spouting what little we knew
of all that surrounded us
to each other
and laughing at how thin
the steps were.
We reached, eventually,
the top of the highest tower,
and, though afraid,
I walked to the edge
and looked over.

In America, we tear down our buildings
after they become old,
but before they become wondrous.
The ghosts are never allowed to stay
to greet children running through.
Each is new, most are square,
and often impressive,
but none so striking
to infuse energy within me —
none that would make me forever remember
the stones under my feet.

I have stayed too long away,
but still I recall,
perfectly at times,
the stairs, the battlements,
the gate that stood opened just for me,
and, most of all,
the tower, far above the world,
looking over the forests,
as if hundreds of years
had never come.

When one more time I find myself in England,
I will take a day to travel to Warwick,
the ghosts may consume me
in a different manner this time,
but they will be there,
and I will play hide-and-seek within the walls
until I find myself atop that tower,
and there find myself still watching.