Not Yet A Ghost Town, But Almost There

Looking forward

with glasses

like the ends of milk bottles.


What looks old to me,

looks young to you.

Rickety shanties lie

scattered close together

on a pimple of land.


Metal piping hot

like the exhaust pipes

of an automobile-

Bulging veins

set soon to burst.


A car


tries to break through,

but it is too big,

too new,

to gain entrance

to the creaky wood gate.


Trees that long ago sprouted,

planted by those who lived here

generations ago

are draped in reds, golds- dying helio

dressed their best

for the final ball,


Autumn is here

and those thin wood walls

won’t last the long winter

rushing to meet them

with snows as white

as the paint of the electronic car

that couldn’t get past

the front gate.



Written for Magpie Tales, not my art

5 thoughts on “Not Yet A Ghost Town, But Almost There

  1. One does feel as though winter approacheth , even while the sun shineth here at the periphery , strife abounds at the Imperial Centre ….


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