gone the empty
church bells
chime
against another
lonely sky-
still.
Wet empty streets
dormant
but for the old man
stick and flat cap
heavily leaning
on a pedestrian
barrier.
The local -
boarded up
windows -
a shell - a lost
community.
No children’s song
lifting
in the breeze no
smiling
mothers leaning
into
prams
and push chairs,
nothing only
bullet grey
sky and memories
of the old days
full of stories
when people had
people - had
hope.
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