The Thames

Them cold, clear nights are getting chilly again, amongst the beautiful trees and the more regular showers.


The Thames


The whirr and hum of the road a few yards back

Mingles with the shouts and songs of Saturday night

But the few blades of grass between the world and you

Leads to the dusky river


A clear sheet unruffled


Open to the clearest of night skies

And a cold, sharp moon


Not a breath stirs

And the trees on the bank stare back

Drinking in the crisp evening

Slowly turning to black


The blue steel ceiling indigoes


Into the stillness


Listening to the silence

In the corridor of willows


And the light of day









Happy rainy Sautrday.

Sloth out.


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