Upon the hoary halls of this everlasting castle, roamed lovers of ere.
Forlorn mirrors and portraits of a woman and a man of willowy stature.
Once soft petals, that gave a beauteous and pulchritudinous scent.
Now have but wilted, left upon trays of cranberries once so succulent.
Where once liquorice with pinnate leaves glowed in the dinning room.
Shutters opened to feel the breeze, as it caressed the roiled tomb.
Cherish keepsakes and memories so visive, remembered in a rhapsody.
Sun sets that adjoined them are now plunged in sudden obscurity.
Vineyards of fermented grapes, would engage a sight so indelible.
The whispers that resonate, like a violin playing notes so magical.
They are the lost treasures of the verve of a lover in need.
No remnants of despair shall winnow their love or greed.
For the toils and drudgeries of love haunt them no more.
In this sanctuary of love their heavenly souls, are lost in the lore.
Behold the chimes so dainty and so favonian, that sound in consonance.
The whistling echoes of interludes, and their endearing romance.
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