Hanging straight each side of the twin doors
One open one closed both
Give sight of the vertical and square wooden railings
Which in turn prevents ones eyes seeing
Straight across the bay
To where the morning mist rises from the sea
Where the brightest of bright sunlight
Escapes from the whitest-gold of clear blue skies
Light which falls onto the mercury of waves
Mercurial in their constant ebbing and flowing
Mercurial as if of the silver
Of Slade's guitarist's silver platform sole boots
Yes that's right Dave Hill's silver knee-high boots
All of which is a brightness reflecting
The kind of kindness that I read of earlier
If light was considered as sound
This light truly would be a sonic bombardment
Noisier than AC DC's thrash metal at the top of its game
Even measured in lux, or lumens
It is an orb of greatest propensity
With sufficient strength of purpose
To light up an entire ocean
To illuminate the whole of the sea
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