Tower Bridge

Blood red cranes on sharp glass.
The white tower 
buttressed in stone.
An egg reflects the river,
and a hollow. 
Strange times.

The stream dies the role calls
The times chime the words fall
The tides rise the chance slim
The whip cracks the last hymn

An evening pause in slow lanes
From angry taxis
you turn and smile.
The wind holds lightning
and a shadow.
Everything fades