In the blue ruins <br />where time never existed, <br />dead cats, their eyes full of spiders, <br />rot in the stairwell. <br /> <br />There are no autumn flowers <br />save those which are dying, yet <br />this remains the most eloquent <br />of seasons. <br /> <br />It is not the colder nights <br />and clouded days which <br />bring these blossoms to fade. <br /> <br />It is their desperate aching for <br />a life more holy and free.<br /><br />David Kowalczyk<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-blood-of-weeds-and-flowers/
