Mechanical giants stand motionless under soft skies, as the tide slowly sinks to mid stream.
Seagulls gather to stare at the retreating water, looking for titbits in the river mud.
silently screaming their pain to anyone who will pause and drink in their despair.
The devil is in the detail, overwritten with with the thoughtless scribbles
of those who leave their tags as a dog leaves scent trails..
Whilst round the the river's bend an iron fist reaches out
to be noticed, remarked upon, remembered.
Sulphur smoke from twisted chimneys punctuates the darkening sky
and the setting sun finally sinks behind the industrial heartland.