Can someone please give be feedback on my description for GCSE English lang?

Could you please say what grade I am working at and how I could improve

It was a vivid May morning. The clouds, a battleship grey, glared intently, while residents hopped cautiously across the degraded and eroded pavements as they tested their luck jumping from a precarious island of tarmac that seemed to edge ever so slightly towards the grumbles of the amused waves below. The gusts of wind acted like an accomplice; it spared no mercy or discomfort, as it emulsified the cold winter breeze with grubby beads of sprayed water to produce some kind of a damp beach towel that encased the shoulders of pedestrians. Intolerably, residents scurried in search for the familiar hum of the radiator, softly dispersing the welcoming mellow odour of hot chocolate and coffee from cafes.
The somewhat alabaster looking detached mansions distanced and isolated themselves from the anarchy they had been surrounded by, while they fumbled to protect their walls that were ripped apart from their paint: they were left vulnerable and exposed to the turmoil of the boisterous water below. In unison they tutted with the clickity-clack of the train tracks. The houses looked as if it just gave out a disapproving glare of the rowdy waves as if they were complaining to the neighbouring houses; they waited for some kind of order and berating of the waves from the neighbours to bring peace and calm. The houses seemed to scoff and looked away with pride and projected shame and judgement. They were decorated with ornate balconies, with the wrought metal twisted and beaten to flaunt a sculpture of leaves and flowers, in order that their owners could look down on the waves with disdain and scorn as they sneered with annoyance.
They contrasted the tall, slender terraced housing huddled in awe of the waves below like gossiping parents picking up their boisterous children from nursery. Their windows clattered like a subtle mutter of parents chatting away about the latest accomplishment of their child, while others projected their unwanted criticism on other children. Some were painted a carmine red with shame and embarrassment once the news of their children pricked their ears, some painted with a sage green and envy and others a flaxen yellow with joy and appreciation of their children. The windows of houses clatter as if to berate the rowdy waves, as they scornfully watch their child inch closer to the fragile, precarious train tracks, weary of the constant observation of other parents.
Yet the waves, like reckless young children, remain unbothered. Recklessly, almost eager to grasp their parents attention they spewed, spitted and splashed water to drench the surrounding tracks. On the other side, the more reserved tides shushed others frustratingly as they gingerly tried to listen to the elders, hoping to eavesdrop on conversations. Others crept over the sea barrier eagerly knocking on the train walls naively awaiting a response, but instead they were berated by the brisk groans and creaks of the train track.
The train left awkwardly rocking in confusion as it accelerated forward, since it glimpsed a chance to escape the rowdy crowd of waves. As the waves clambered through the tracks, passengers inside inched subtly further away from the doors to attempt to avoid the water mingling with their precious notebooks. Some attempts proved futile. Large swathes of indigo ink brushed the leather seats, while the dispirited passengers had let out a deep sigh of disappointment. It looked as if their sleep deprived faces were cheated of time, effort and peace to be cunningly replaced with annoyance when their books, essays and documents were vandalised almost instantly.

I'm not a professional but I'd say your work is really good! one thing I would say is that I would try to vary how you start sentences eg use adverbs to start - clattering as if to berate... (you have used this w recklessly though!). Also perhaps try to add more punctuation such as a semi colon? I think you are definitely working at the top end but I don't know exactly what grade Id give you. This is really good and you created a picture in my head which is exactly what a great piece of writing does! : )

Could you please say what grade I am working at and how I could improve

It was a vivid May morning. The clouds, a battleship grey, glared intently, while residents hopped cautiously across the degraded and eroded pavements as they tested their luck jumping from a precarious island of tarmac that seemed to edge ever so slightly towards the grumbles of the amused waves below. The gusts of wind acted like an accomplice; it spared no mercy or discomfort, as it emulsified the cold winter breeze with grubby beads of sprayed water to produce some kind of a damp beach towel that encased the shoulders of pedestrians. Intolerably, residents scurried in search for the familiar hum of the radiator, softly dispersing the welcoming mellow odour of hot chocolate and coffee from cafes.
The somewhat alabaster looking detached mansions distanced and isolated themselves from the anarchy they had been surrounded by, while they fumbled to protect their walls that were ripped apart from their paint: they were left vulnerable and exposed to the turmoil of the boisterous water below. In unison they tutted with the clickity-clack of the train tracks. The houses looked as if it just gave out a disapproving glare of the rowdy waves as if they were complaining to the neighbouring houses; they waited for some kind of order and berating of the waves from the neighbours to bring peace and calm. The houses seemed to scoff and looked away with pride and projected shame and judgement. They were decorated with ornate balconies, with the wrought metal twisted and beaten to flaunt a sculpture of leaves and flowers, in order that their owners could look down on the waves with disdain and scorn as they sneered with annoyance.
They contrasted the tall, slender terraced housing huddled in awe of the waves below like gossiping parents picking up their boisterous children from nursery. Their windows clattered like a subtle mutter of parents chatting away about the latest accomplishment of their child, while others projected their unwanted criticism on other children. Some were painted a carmine red with shame and embarrassment once the news of their children pricked their ears, some painted with a sage green and envy and others a flaxen yellow with joy and appreciation of their children. The windows of houses clatter as if to berate the rowdy waves, as they scornfully watch their child inch closer to the fragile, precarious train tracks, weary of the constant observation of other parents.
Yet the waves, like reckless young children, remain unbothered. Recklessly, almost eager to grasp their parents attention they spewed, spitted and splashed water to drench the surrounding tracks. On the other side, the more reserved tides shushed others frustratingly as they gingerly tried to listen to the elders, hoping to eavesdrop on conversations. Others crept over the sea barrier eagerly knocking on the train walls naively awaiting a response, but instead they were berated by the brisk groans and creaks of the train track.
The train left awkwardly rocking in confusion as it accelerated forward, since it glimpsed a chance to escape the rowdy crowd of waves. As the waves clambered through the tracks, passengers inside inched subtly further away from the doors to attempt to avoid the water mingling with their precious notebooks. Some attempts proved futile. Large swathes of indigo ink brushed the leather seats, while the dispirited passengers had let out a deep sigh of disappointment. It looked as if their sleep deprived faces were cheated of time, effort and peace to be cunningly replaced with annoyance when their books, essays and documents were vandalised almost instantly.