In the End

No glow tomorrow
No distant glimmer
In the North.

No sound
Except the bangs
Except the creaks
Of Manchester
Cooling down.

No voices to be heard
No laughter stark or absurd.

Just the deep dark
Turning to black.

And the chill
Turning to cold
Turning to ice.

City frozen grey
Grey as the ashen grate.

Martin Delemare

14th June 2010

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