Anote of salt,
Slips in and the river rises,
darkening to the colour of tea,
swelling to meet the green,
Above it's banks,
the cogs and wheels of monstrous machines,
clank and spin,
the ghost within, vanished into it's coils,
whispering mysteries.
Each tiny golden cog has teeth,
each great wheel moves,
a pair of hands which take the water from the river,
devour it,
convert into steamm,
coevie the great machine to run,
in the force of its dissolution,
Gently the tide is rising, corrupting the mechanism.
Salt, rust and silt
slowing the gears.
Down at the banks,
the iron tanks,
sway into their moorings,
with the hollow boom
of a gigantic bell,
of drum and cannon,
which cry out in a tongue of thunder,
and the river rolls under.
-Elka Cloke
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if you don't know who Elka is then look her up!!!!!!!
