When the Moon was high,
whilst the Stars were radiant.
Her city walls would crumble,
she'd set them down brick by brick.
Its vital arteries exposed and laid bare,
just herself, the Moon and the Stars present.

The houses were empty,
except for paintings on their walls.
Dust had conquered each house,
only being displaced by her visits.
Alone she would gaze at each painting,
waiting for them to gaze back at her.