Tuesday, September 27, 2011

There is a sign that points to Nowhere
Now it's a ghost town empty and bare
The streets filled with rolling tumbleweeds
and dusty signs, paint faded with wear
the relentless wind and sun that feeds
on the forgotton benches and chairs
scattered among the consuming weeds
and the rattling bones of the inns
scraping, scratching in the lonely wind
A reminder, the town of Nowhere
once stood lively and brazenly there
Janice Kuykendall

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