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  • Todd Wooten


Your abandonment was a whisper.

Like the autumn breeze whistling through

the dilapidated shack that creaks among the trees.

I hear the retreating army of your footsteps.

I catch glances in the periphery.

Invisible signs point to a dead end.

I walk the woods, curious about the history

of this overgrown building.

Shattered windows. Rusted roof.

Concrete slab exposed and cracked.

Echoes of ghosts haunt me.

Residents of another time.

There was purpose once. Laughter. Celebration.

Here where my compass cannot find direction.

Vision skewed by vegetation.

No path to lead me home.

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