Smoking smouldering chimneys
Like old steam engines
Seemingly chugging along
Through the windswept, and whistling
Squally, stormy skies
Is it the trees brushing the clouds?
Or have the houses
Uprooted from their foundations
As they glide along
Aided by the sweeping wind
As a stream of smoke
Billows behind
No choo choo
Just the howling gusts
Like ghosts
Of the dying wolf moon
The steam engine'd houses
Are soon stationary
As the wind dies down
The smoke from the chimneys
Now swirls upwards
Blending
With the grey puffball
Shrouded clouds
The houses
Their facades
Like glowing faces
Widowed windows
Mellowed, yellowed eyes
Light up
As the mouth like door
Closes out the night
Like a secret kiss

by Jemia