Autotown

The white widow falls into a graveyard of grey ,Amoungst the skeletal scaffolding of bricks and mortar, leftover structures struggle to survive a silent passing,
.Waiting for the  steel and stone to speak upon absent ears .Where fossils are frozen in a time that will not dissolve , the emptiness that now fills the grand ballrooms with ghosts and dust. Those dynasties that once dined there feed on other cities now , as their memories fill the skyline of where its roots began .Even the calloused cement rises into a shape of an uncertain future, as the invisible windows imagine they might see through glass again,looking at the lost souls searching for a warm place to rest. For the raw air bites the face and tears through the torso, to reveal a chill that descends upon the burning embers of a home.Remembering age can be timeless in this relevant obscurity,for those who stay time will turn again in their favor ,rejuvenated by the revolution of its old walls , old ways and new blood