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

Unrippled

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

Melting

Into the stillness

 

Listening to the silence

In the corridor of willows

 

And the light of day

 

Quietly 

 

Falling 

into 

the 

Thames

 

Happy rainy Sautrday.

Sloth out.

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