The Little House 1

The Little House 1

The house stood beyond an avenue of lime trees

Atop a small hill that overlooked a sleepy village

The storm of years gone by had taken a toll

Windows were broken and the roof leaking

Paint was flaking and mortar needed repointing

The owners had withdrawn to occupy a few rooms

Where the West wing showed signs of repair

After their passing away the house might have fallen

There were no heirs and so much work needed

There appeared a FOR SALE sign on the avenue

To the villagers surprise the property soon sold

Fears then grew about the future of the hall

Rumours spread about building a housing estate

What might be the effect upon a sleepy village

Heavy trucks rolling through the narrow roads

Suddenly scaffolding began to appear on the house

The rumours subsided but the curiosity grew

A care home perhaps or the home of a rock star

Inside new owners were going from room to room

Where wallpaper was peeling lights vandalised

Discarded needles and syringes in a bedroom

Yet so much of the structure remained intact

The furniture had been sold to cover debt

They wondered what the hall had looked like

In all of the grandeur at the height of fame

When all those around knew the family name

Horse-drawn carriages clattering along the avenue

Each hall that they viewed seemed unique

They searched past records but this hall was old

Built years before photography was invented

How could they restore this hall to its prime

They nearly gave up but then by chance

The key to the success of their project was found

Deep below the house in storage underground

The old house still held some secrets of its past

But this finding left the new owners aghast

Copyright: David Hopcroft August 2025

The Stairway Of The Great Hall

The Stairway of The Great Hall

She waited patiently in her room for her lady

At last the message came that her entrance could be made

Dressed in her jewelled flowing gown she stood

Looking down the steps into the Great Hall

Where the tapestries hung from the walls

Knights on horseback from a battle scene

Recalling days from medieval times and crusades

A lady in her tent perhaps a queen

The lion and the unicorn at her sides

A fireplace where the logs were ablaze

The family crest above the mantle-piece

Deer heads staring down from the gallery

Where minstrels once would have played

Now a string quartet were waiting for their signal

Great chandeliers hung from ceiling beams

Candles flickering in the evening breeze

Where curtained windows revealed

Frames that had slowly shrunk over the years

A polished floor awaited her first steps

The Yuletide Ball to welcome the Snow Queen

She cast a glance to each side

Looking for the one she desired

They had played as children in the grounds

Her eyes now searched for the blonde hair

Then by the bay window she saw him there

With heart fluttering she descended the stair

Copyright: David Hopcroft December 2024

Village Church

Village Church

Angels are flying overhead from the beams

The covered font reaches up to the sky

A home and refuge in honour of one who redeems

A resting place where loved ones in peace can lie

Strange figures hiding beneath the seats

The craftsman has carefully left his signature

Here is a centre where the village still meets

Seeking light to escape the darker lure

Around the walls the saviour makes his last walk

In a quiet space we kneel to respect those who gave their lives

Amidst long grasses I listen as past spirits begin to talk

Then wonder where they wander when night arrives

Stories once unfolded on bright painted walls

Offering guidance and hope for those who sat in oaken pews

A truth being whitewashed for those demanding puritanic halls

Good news being smothered by narrow-minded views

Believers who gathered in the porch before the priest

Would make their pledges to each other before the mass

Then dancing upon the village green would begin the feast

There’s a posy waiting beneath a pillow for another lass

In a place of remembrance an old bent figure kneels

The soldier and the sailor assisting with the cross

An image portrayed in coloured glass reveals

Perhaps a confusion in interpretation of grief and loss

Gathered flint and stone from fields stand

Blessings are still given beneath the covered font

Scripture recited still portrays a picture of the damned

Can these old stones satisfy both need and want

God’s little acre still stands in England’s countryside

An invitation to salvation standing the test of time

The work of medieval craftsmen is admired far and wide

Their hope that meanings in the shrine will not decline

Cathedrals rise high with finery of great arches and spires

Monuments that celebrate both glory and power

But in these rural churches with local village choirs

Greater treasures can be found beneath the knapped flint tower

Copyright: David Hopcroft June 2023