Snow blows while the quiet sun sets on stones which stand in defiance to the cruel elements in (a) crueler world. Why they stand has since been forgotten by all and the people (who did) long deceased.
The stones stand built, they have an air about them. The air that stands and shouts,"Oi! I am here and it is (that) I stay!" They stand ever hard pressed to find anyone who recognize(s) their purpose. The sky is gold with their memories of days before the world was riddled with LED screens competing for Man's attention.
But even so, they stand a bit taller when someone passes by and looks upon them with a question or many to be in fact (questions that is). They feel warmed by once again being recognized and seen with wonder and being the thing to spark the curiosity of a person and instill in them a fragment of a world that silently lived beyond reckoning.
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