A Monastery Medieval Poem by Emmanuel George Cefai

A monastery medieval
Not dilapidated
But old
With old
Rain water pipes
And musty libraries
And books
And rooms of monks
Joying
In its
Increasing ancient
Dilapidation almost
Monastery
That glides
When the snows
Fall
For then
The mists will
Have risen
Long before
Long
Long
Before
Medieval monastery
And
The Man said
He saw the heads
Of some monks peep
From out their casements
And
It was deep night
Far
Far past mid-night:
Yet
All the monks when
Confronted by the Abbot
Said:
‘Sir! We were sleeping.’