Wasteland
The town is empty
all houses are deserted.
vacant streets solemnly
lie in stillness
long ago the rivers
have dried up
leaving hard cracked
ground behind.
There's no one here
No one left.
The town's become a wasteland.
Tumble weeds roll
past naked lawns
carried on by dry dusty wind.
a half-hinged door
bangs somewhere in the distance.
The wind hears-
then chooses not to listen.
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