I wrote this poem for a poetry contest on my Narnia forum. The theme was Visions of Narnia. I wrote about the White Witch’s castle when Edmund first saw it in The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.
Spires tower to the sky,
Black against the chilly night.
The iron gates both hang awry
Into a courtyard; though not bright,
It’s dipped in eerie, silver light.
Sporting satyrs, lions, bears,
The courtyard plays the battleground,
Yet the light that on each glares
Reveals a still, snow-shrouded mound
And from the walls echoes no sound.
The soldiers are but statues; life
Now hangs suspended in each breast.
With unease the air is rife,
For this courtyard holds no rest
For its one still-breathing guest.