The wall crumbled and old, the bricks falling to dust,
The bones of the man as if sitting waiting against the wall,
His bones dry and beginning to crumble, the hard hat at an angle where it had fallen, the shirt rotting and faded in the sun.

Through the opening that used to be a window, the bright
green creeper had begun, it had crept along the wall like a snake, and seemed to find the opening in the shirt, climbed through the ribs of the man and almost like it knew, had come to an end just before his throat.

The bright red splash of colour and life of the rose, as if nature had placed a flower where his heart had been, shimmered in the sun.