sacred ruins

I found this poem while cleaning out my room that I wrote in Oxford after visiting several ruins of old abbeys. Thought I'd share...

Sacred ruins of years gone by
lay in such a heap.
Through wind and rain you've stood aground,
worn by traveler's feet.

Your colors faded dull with age,
against the grass so green.
Yet piercing the sky with your height
lay shadows upon me.

I walk your floors that once held men
of times so long ago.
In their steps I trace your life
and stories I'll never know.