The great clocktower stand dilapidated
Grinding, churning, clicking and creaking
As the thick black clouds cover the dim moon
The evening is silent
Save for the calls
Of distant treacherous birds
The bell tolls at midnight
Gently swaying the flames of candles
Within the upper rooms of the tower
As the bell slows
The candles go out one by one
As if a sentient breeze passed through
Until they were but wisps of smoke
Swirling beneath a fading moon
Never to be lit again
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 3:50 PM UTC
The great clocktower stand dilapidated
Grinding, churning, clicking and creaking
As the thick black clouds cover the dim moon
The evening is silent
Save for the calls
Of distant treacherous birds
The bell tolls at midnight
Gently swaying the flames of candles
Within the upper rooms of the tower
As the bell slows
The candles go out one by one
As if a sentient breeze passed through
Until they were but wisps of smoke
Swirling beneath a fading moon
Never to be lit again
