The cracks interrupting my walk
Are not cracks at all
But veins of sweet
Sweet blossoms fallen

Gray stepped-on concrete holds tight
To the cells of sweet traveling
Amongst the deep
Mimicking bright of the sky they once reached

My step carefully avoids
The soldiers on their plight
Their helmets a warm rose
Filling those trenches awaiting

A gust of fresh air set the sweet cells to dancing
A cyclone of chaotic beauty
And once again the cracks of my walk are empty
With only the memory of their visitors