Ghost Zero
Only ghosts man these
old frontier outposts now
They rock back and forth on
driftwood chairs on the porches
of the town main street shop's
and saloons
Hoping and praying for a piece
of tumbleweed to pass bye to
make this day somehow
memorable
The sun's positioning says this
would have been rush hour way
back then
When they left they stole the
boots off the dead so as to
keep the noise of trampling feet
down
The weeded grass in the graveyard
has turned ginger brown
And the names on the crosses
have almost totaly eroded and
faded away completely
Soon enough this here town
wont be found on any map
anymore and when that happens
It won't be a ghost town it
will be as if it never existed
at all
And at that point then even the
ghosts will have to contemplate
maybe leaving and moving on
Because even the dead need
some form of life to exist
Above ground zero
Copyright © Christopher Flaherty | Year Posted 2022
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