Wood that crumbles to the touch,
Silence that becomes too much,
Foot prints on the dusty floor,
Of an old forgotten store.
Broken windows in a room,
And a cob web covered broom,
No one sees the sun go down,
In this old forgotten town.
Darkness brings familiar fears,
As the shadows disappear,
Walking down this empty street,
Feeling somehow incomplete.
I dream while I am still awake,
But with every step I take,
I always stop to look around,
At memories in this old ghost town.
I love this poem!
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Ah, thanks. I kinda don’t like my own writing, so it’s nice to hear and get objective feedback. t/y
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Oh wow, I think you write beautifully! We are always our own worst critics.
Have you read my last few poems?…..
Now that is a crime against grammar. ;)
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lol – no it wasn’t, we ARE our worse critics. I’ve been trying to write the perfect poem since I was 15 years old. there’s no such thing as the perfect poem.
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LOL…….thank you, thank you, thank you! :)
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;)
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Reblogged this on annaschmitt10.
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Is that Keanu Reeves?
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