GHOST TOWN . . .

There was an eerie silence in this place
of it's former inhabitants scarsely a trace
buildings, half fallen down,were built with dexterity
indicative of a very hard working people, prosperity


There a stone church, covered in vines, way up the hill
it's bell, in solid hand hewn timber tower, ever so still
it's metal parts rusted, immovable, devoid of any motion
no more like it used to be, alerting people to danger, devotion


The interior a richness of very fine craftsmanship proclaim
no more, since long ago, the sounds of joyuos Hymn's refrain
a place to worship, no distinction between the rich and humble
doors, if any, hanging askew, rotting floors, walls slowly crumble


No more Baptisms, Weddings, services for the dead
in memory of . . . . . faintly on windows of glass in lead
untended grave stones, tilted at crazy angles, in church yard
silent testimony to those who long ago, this life did depart


In wide, long main street, ruins of shops, large and small stores
maybe this or that one was the last one to close forever it's doors
those other buildings, they could have been some pubs
ornate wooden bars, dirt floors, here and there smoker's stubbs


This building here was the local school, over there the bank
you can also see, on stand, remains of town's rusted water tank
shire offices and hall, hospital, post office, police station
used for administering to the former large population


In village square there still stands an Obelisk, impressive, tall
insribed with names of those, in world conflicts, answered call
railway station, delapidated alongside overgrown track
rusted, unused by trains long departed, never to come back


A glimpse of a village or a town, in not too distant past
perhaps a very prosperous people, yet somehow didn't last
there is still plenty more to see and making you wonder
reasons how, why, it became a ghost town, it makes you ponder