Very nice, Sage! And what a great idea to get some conversation going. I dabble in ghosttown poetry - here's one I wrote last Halloween:
I Long For Days In The Old Ghost Town
by Cecile Page Vargo
I long for days in the old ghost town
Where the buildings creak and moan
And the only ghosts that are around
Are the history tales I’ve sown
One can walk the streets and stir up dust
Just as pioneers of yore
And hold old cans encrusted in rust
And wonder what contents bore
I long for days in the old ghost town
Wind whistlin' thru the canyon
Where mule and men traveled up and down
Oft’ with nary companion
What drove these men to wanderlust
In the lonely mining camp
Afar away from a life of trust
Over hill and dale they’d tramp
I long for days in the old ghost town
Where vagrant men’s eyes once gleamed
At hardrock mountains where ore abound
And visions of wealth are deemed
Watch carefully as you walk about
Kicking dirt on old footpath
Dusty prints you’ll find without a doubt
Legends of mining men wraith
I long for days in the old ghost town
When shovel hitting pay dirt
Caused men to dosey doe round and round
And more oft than not lose shirt
Ghosts of men for breakfast oft’ touted
On this day , All Hallows Eve,
In faded newspapers tacked and flouted
On batten board walls that weave
I long for days in the old ghost town
Where the buildings creak and moan
I assure you , my dear, sounds abound
That are only here on loan
So savor the tale of by gone camp
And the air that chills the spine
As we sit around with fire lit lamp
Tipping glass of beer or wine
I long for days in the old ghost town
Mere shadow of former self
Where history is told around
By wind instead of bookshelf
