Sometimes,
in this season
of dying and farewells,
even the broken,
the rusted,
the rejected
are touched by magic,
garlanded in lights
and flowers,
resurrected
and honoured
among fallen leaves.
Hereabouts
autumn ghosts
still peddle summer,
wheeling and whistling
through
the tenuous sunlight
of October streets.
Photo and Poem by Clinock
art rat cafe 