Off to the right a small patch of land appears,
   small homes, buildings, a town once alive.
  Ghost town it is not, abandoned town it is,
what was the reason this town did not thrive.

    Small mercantile embedded in the middle
                                of town,
         hitching posts, water troughs not fit
                         for man or beast.
       Broken glass, missing door, sign barely
                                hanging on,
    must have outlived many to say the least.

    A few steps down at the end of the street,
a silversmith shop with many tools unbroken.
    Rusted anvil fallen over, horseshoes hang
                                 on a loop,
         water bucket with water left behind
                                as a token.

  It would not be complete without a saloon,
          which we found with those famous
                              swinging doors.
  Dried leather top bar, cracked mirror behind,
    broken chairs, round tables and of course
                             wooden floors.

          Resting against a wall with a little
                                round seat,
 a lack luster piano with half the keys rotten.
        The history of this place now lives on
                                   in silence,
               perhaps passed on but hopefully
                                not forgotten.

    Time is passing, we had better move along,
            one last look before we leave this 
                               lovely place.
   The sun will rise again to begin a new day,
back in my memory will remain a small trace.

Written by:
Karen Palumbo
Photography by:
Robert Palumbo
8/29/2007
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