ascending the 199 steps to the abbey
on a sultry summer afternoon.
I followed the footsteps of Bram Stoker
imagining the scene when darkness descended
with a full moon and snow adorning the ground
pretending I was conjuring Nosferatu.
Some gravestones at nearby St. Mary's
could not be deciphered, weathered away,
bones underneath and no mourners.
I felt the spirits of monks not Stoker
as I admired the ruined abbey
peering down from the clifftop with wonder
at the sparkling sea so far down under.