Two coins are laid to rest by tired cells, lidded eyes, and the slowest beating rhythms a ceaseless deluge, drops of morose on white lilies hung at the end of quiet oak streets a little boy kisses fingertips to the forehead, thinking about creased smiles and feathery embraces the placard stands, silent remembrance of forgotten things and past windows and shut doors, the overcast looms, formula for a white sky and waning moon and in the distance, eternity.

All photography🖼️ was produced and edited by 🔥Dennis Sarovski🔥, Poem is by my Wife :) Check me out on: https://www.instagram.com/dennis_sarovski/ Check her out on: https://www.instagram.com/thewrittennomad/