No cranking clatter litters the workshop,
all is silent now.
No biting tooth to tooth revolution,
screech of slipping drive,
or cry of metal
pierces this mute redundancy.
This rugged rust gathers dust
and cobwebbed memories:
The ghosts of foremen
in their white shrouds
whisper their criticism
in memorium.
Skills have clocked off
and journeyed afar -
lost in translation.
No comments:
Post a Comment