fog lingers

in the trees and passageways

smoke from a long gone chimney

and the river flows

 

a hundred footsteps

on a soft January day

they took their time, there was never time

and the river flows

 

buildings fall in on themselves

ignited oil and a heavy pall of smoke

time stopped, flames rose

and the river flows

 

machines gave way to a muddy mess

detritus flags lifeless in a tree

trading industry for ghosts

still the river flows