Mary

Across my vision Athens, on my sleeve a chance number, we’re silent at its shedding, those faces a sweet shining, a garrotted wonder, as if they were swimming, I whisper to myself, how the world slumbers, fallen within a spell, we shelter beneath the limes, the sea’s gentle thunder, a storm within the fire, a nation brought to this, a night time of whispers, lost in this parched wilderness, it makes our days entwine, one sun washed conundrum, the sailors are swilling wine, our City can’t go under.