The memorial rose was still deep red despite the rich ice

That had attacked its petals during the deep frost hours

Nearby the tall string grasses stood quite rigid

Paralysed and totally lost within their vertical isolation

In the distance misty ghost ships moved sluggishly

As if they were at anchor fearing a ferocious storm

The pebbled beach lay dormant in the wastes of weak sun

And the black tipped phantasy gulls considered infinity