Memoir of a Ghost Town
Rickety shelters at the base of majestic peaks
Nestled here, memories of winters long and cold.
Miners searching treasures, precious silver and gold.
Ghost towns whisper what it is they seek.
Misty clouds linger near jagged, unyielding terrain
Haunting, this sanctuary of aged wood and rusted tin.
Below cracked floorboards, marmots scurry in
As miner's picks echo in the pounding rain.
This place, a souvenir of abandoned dreams
Fragments once buried deep like old bones.
Colored glass litters the ground. It seems
Hard rockers were not always alone.
Remains of a china doll all dirty and worn
To this rugged place a miner's daughter was born.
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