A day's beauty, withered and clothed
Absorbed by an argent mist, the Granite Man no new student to gloom
The spores at sea come boldly and assume,
The Granite Man wakes slowly, his eyes in dark shade
With a hard step to nothing hovering nearby,
A river's mirror beckons, below this cold bridge
In winter's first oil's, a carcuss that has shed it's skin
Surrounding this city that's troubled and toiled
Shipwrecked above all, an exact portion of death, charred and stayed.
©tracywebs
T