swallow’s puddles

leaves flutter from eyes
in melt of autumn
tones
,

rust’s brushed the walks
outside pickets guarding
empty homes

and i,
alone.

they say all the stronger for it-
can’t help but folding
hands up weak,

parked on bench
littered shadow’s
bones
,

these streets,
leave their footprints
on any ghost they
seek.

in i,
alone.

image: https://pixabay.com/users/dozemode-2904399/

image: https://pixabay.com/users/arttower-5337/

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