Upon the hill the battlements gleam
walls of ice ethereal things.
Protection against invading hordes
the cling, the clank, of pikes and swords,
will not venture through these doors.
Safe inside our fortress we
live our lives busily.
Carefree and ignorant of our doom
these walls drip, drip,
As brick upon brick soon-
slips, slip begun.
in the noonday sun.