Sirens Poem by Paul Reed

The silence clings to the walls
Broken only by the trumpet of an exhaust
From the car park below;
Windows still ajar
The quest still far
From its conclusion;

A siren comes now, in the dim distance
Unable to carry it's urgency
Through the miles between
There and this complacent scene;
Dissolving in an eerie whistle
Rather like calling a dog home
And nobody hears

Then more sirens in a tinny symphony
They call persistently
But still no-one hears.