Striped poles stand
outside ‘barbershop’ windows
tattered awnings drape
over blank storefronts;
ghosts of the long departed line the streets.
A remembrance
of another time in history.
lies in faded, dingy photographs
of a time long past.
And the only hope
rests with poets and painters,
who, in broad strokes of imagination,
can restore life from ancient dust.
Carolyn Brunelle
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/ancient-dust/
