Evening Tide Poem by Mary Champion

One may admire this stately, medieval mansion
with its parterre gardens and intricate topiary,
but there are dark shadows
over its provenance and history.
It was gifted to one for an act of betrayal
by a tyrant who took the nation by force,
who raised his most loyal recruits
to positions of undeserved power -
in a society where sleaze reigned
and where it still infects every corner.

But the tides of history flow unabated.
Cracks appear in the crumbling seawall
that defends the margins of this putrid swamp,
such tides,
taken in the flood
will raise all craft
and submerge all mansions.