Ghost Town

The town stands still,
Its buildings
Empty and decaying,
As if frozen
In a time
Long since passed.

The wind whips 
Through the dusty streets
And the boards creak
With the weight
Of their own history.
Almost as if breathing.

But the man
Who comes here
To wander these 
Forgotten streets
Believes
In none of that.

He is haunted too,
But not by phantoms or spirits,
Only by the memories 
That linger
In every dusty corner 
And broken window.

Ghosts
Of what once was,
Of what could 
Have been,
Of what
He has lost.

He wanders alone,
Buoyed up
By the echoes 
Of a time gone by.
It's a place where reality
Dissolves into memory.

As the sun sets behind 
The western mountains,
He leaves the town behind,
Knowing full well
That the real ghosts he carries with him
Will haunt him long after he has gone.