Ghosts - The Town Poem by Paul Warren

'Where did you come from, son'
He said as he rolled a cigarette with finger and thumb

The look on the young man's face was hard to read
As he tied up his horse to the rail and information was his need

'I've just ridden from the goldfields in the mountain range
And I need a drink to wash out the dust, ' he explained

'The saloon is just over there. Whisky or 'shine is all'
So he went through the bar room door, ' A whisky, ' was his call

He slung a coin on the bar and downed the drink in one swallow
And looked around the room sizing the town up as rowdy not mellow

One of the dance hall girls came up and became friendly some
When he decided that she was preddy enough with his heart won

They walked up to the stairs to one of the rooms where he spent the night
And he woke up early the next day and it looked like something was not right

The room was not like is was the last night with the furniture old and falling down
The girl was gone too and he looked around and all he saw was an old ghost town.

© Paul Warren Poetry