V.Woolf and the worm

The sirens echoed the streets, a gusty rush and dust circles. A crumpled paper opens through the cracks and petals greet the multi steps, like scurried rats. Passing by, time beats and metal rings a song. The aroma droops with a sigh, stilled against the river dash and purple streamed the sky. Water trickled through gaps, escaped from scorching rays. The grained seat is weathered and bowed. Neither is here or there, quietly, effortlessly the light dims its day. Til the glowing crescent, hangs, and the northern star points the way. Nightfall elope the darkening calls and orange marbles dance the light then falls, swoop the blades away into the dark spray and hides with its prey. Quietly Westminister chimes by the fire another hour, another minute where sleep sustains the motion, slowed. Softly, a sensuous breeze caress the surface and a ripple cascade with a blue sigh bidding to you allto the sweet ,sweetgoodnight.