Ghost Town

Ghost Town

By Chelsea Pritchett

I walk through this

Ghost town

I once called home,

The wind sweeps away my

Fondest memories

Yet, the bird's chirping

Gives me hope,

That there is still life in this

Rugged, ole town

When I turn the corner,

I hear a soft cry.

A little girl, all alone,

Cries for her mother in this

Ghost town

As I cradle her in my arms,

She lets me know,

There is still hope in this

Ghost town,

And life will soon stir.

Oh how I love this

Ghost town.

This poem "Ghost Town" came to my thoughts one day as

I was listening to the news. They were talking about the Hurricanes and

how New Orleans was once again a ghost town.I thought about writing a poem called ghost town, and I did. I love writing poetry, I find joy in it.