Steam

Like exotic birds they flock,
Displaying colourful finery
To visitors and passers-by.
Tipping top hats and twirling parasols,
They greet the crowds,
While promenading past the pier,
Goggles clear and cogs all shiny.

You can almost see the airships,
Steaming along the coast,
Stopping just long enough for a spot of tea.
They are full of airs and graces,
And inventions wild and new,
But the sky is an open road,
For steampunk’s bravest crew.