Verbena

Once upon a time soft fairy dust trickled down onto dark shady green to turn into crystal clear chimes. Nobody could ever break this spell.

Drops of garnet on velvety petals. A rose glowing dark at night. Guarding those who dream. In black soil. In black silence. In eternity.

Foggy shreds crawl through dark clammy streets. No sunbeam left to pierce the November grey. Retreat, for time has stopped until Spring.

Waxen withering roses. Ivy claws clinging to clammy ruins. Candles flameless now, leaving no spark of life. A tomb clad in a veil of rain.

Wind and waves. Wandering clouds. A quiet lighthouse. A steaming teapot. White sails and a blue horizon. A heart longing for distant shores.

Colourless, powerless, lifeless we appeared to them. Cloyingly gray, sickly and weak. Palefaces they called us...

Smoky oil. Hot metal shards. Assembly lines, print rolls, greasy pinions. Feeding the punch-clock. Industry sketched in black and white.

Smells like beer. Not freshly drawn, but disgustingly stale and sticky-sweet. Upsets the stomach, and wearing it feels like a hangover. :(

Your embrace. So powerful and inviting. Savage... just a bit. Your warmth. Your comfort. Your shelter. Deeply-rooted. Homeward bound.

Sprays of salty mist dashing against the pier. A dogger crawling through the bay, haunted by greedy seagulls. Seaweed rocking on the waves.