The bare eyes of old houses crack with sorrow, <br />Because the sun will rise again tomorrow. <br />Of all who pass by there is no dissenter, <br />No mood exists upon this street but winter. <br /> <br />A woman and a man walk by together, <br />Their shadows painted filigree on weather. <br />Gazing steadfastly upward beyond dying, <br />They memorize whatever birds are flying.<br /><br />Sandra Fowler<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/bare-eyes-crack-with-sorrow/
