In the dull-witted dusk watched

through a pair of half-mast work-weary eyes

the primeval sun is sinking

through searing orange, pink-purple foam

Pedestal perched green gaslight globes

start to flicker in angelic glow

cast about, deep into the elderly river's flow --

Shadow of others spirit themselves by --

barges sail past eternally plotted

clinking and laughing

Catching their strains

on the stone bench where I sit

covering us in a powder blue dust

Victorian arch's melancholy bend

straycrumpled newspaper scuttles through

like a strandcrab

You look out -- I look in

and we wait for Londinium's 

star - tilting night to begin. 

----

This was written when I was about 12 -13 years old