One façade through windward gaze

Pebble ridges crashed upon the haze

A mêlée of windows, cracked cement

A winding stair, a telescope distorts

The servant's house, forlorn on the horizon.

The webs of deceit still linger in the corners

The dust-filled tomes still crowd the walls

The endless swathes of grey blue water

Enamel, evermind sheen, a boat lost, at sea

From this deserted tower, a fog descends

The waves wash over the still debris

The watercolour sun, hidden again.