Ghost Town Reflections

Driving through nothing, just fields and despair,

every storefront vacant, its spirit laid bare.

A gas station flickers, its neon half-dead,

like memories fading, they linger instead.

The attendant, a statue, his gaze lost in dreams,

reflects back my loneliness, ripped at the seams.

Each empty block echoes a silence profound,

and whispers of life in the lost and the found.

These flyover moments, where time ceases flight,

paint portraits of absence, in fading daylight.

I leave with the gas, my tank half-refilled,

but the landscape behind me feels ghostly and killed.