Trees line the square Their arms impaled in the air. Their emerald garments ripped away. It's a cold sooty day, patches of rain on the green. A hidden rainbow, left unseen. The sun is hiding behind the gold clouds. The wind is stinging my back, it's cold needles are Ink staining me. Pull back the cob webs of the sky and you will not see a daring spider. You will see the sun and the tears from its eyes.