TOR

The Monastry of St Michael
Once flourishing a while
Ago ensuring water
For the pilgrims who we know
Would have been so thirsty
The trek up from the town
With their animals on summery days
One had to get some down

The tower stands still to this day
Seen by all around
Looking over the levels
There on hallowed ground
Closer to the moon at night
And the sun at times when we
See the great created sky scape
Blushing uncontrollably

Taste the white Spring water
Cold and crisp it be
A frosty cocktail from the bowels
Of the earth and it doth free
The dryness from the aching throats
From the pump house down below
Opposite the chalice gardens
Where the iron clad now does flow