Vast once machine halls echo,
with no sound.
The pistons are gone now.
They no longer hiss and pound,
signposts to the past,
dotted all over town.

The stacks are cooled,
and stand tall, solemn.
Now clean as whistles.
The grime of their work
long scraped from them.
Dusty cracked glass and silence.


One comment

  1. Stephen M Rees · February 22, 2016

    This is a well judged piece of visual observation. I particularly like the energy of the last wording the first and last lines


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