Windsor Sleeps

A mist has crept and crawled its way
across the fields to Eton's bank,
to where our craft is safely moored
by tow path route, sop wet and dank.

The haze stops short of river near
as amber rays of rippled light,
shoot from the lamps on waters edge
to thrust and strike like daggers bright.

As Windsor sleeps, the castle stands
its upright walls so proud and bare,
they oversee the town and boats
by daybreak drawing tourists there.

The sky still black, the water calm
no human shadows are in sight,
here weeping willow silhouettes
seem ghoulish in the silent night..

By dawn their fluid tresses fall
and teased by gentle breeze they sway,
then dip their ends in rivers flow
while idle swans pass time away.

The peace is shattered, quiet's stirred
with toll of chimes from town hall clock,
as eerie fleet of phantom geese,
glide slowly onward towards the lock.