TUMBLE WEEDS

TUMBLE WEEDS

A long ride, not much in between,

Upon a quiet, deserted town I came.

Not a soul in sight, a breeze echoes through this place,

Many different sounds as if people lived.

Only ghosts of a town that once had breath,

The back and forth clanging of an open jail house door.

A saloon sign creaking as it swings in the wind,

I can almost feel those who once were here.

Only dust walks these streets, this town that died,

I’ll stay here for the night, I’ll be alright,

The only thing that will be my company are a horse and tumble weeds.

Keith Garrett

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