Old Streets

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Came back to these old streets,

The path feels so natural beneath my feet.

Broken doorways,

They whisper my name.

They know me from before.

Now condemned;

Boarded windows

And graffiti walls.

No going back to

How it was.

Boards creak and walls speak.

They tell me,

“Move on little girl.

We loved you then,

We love you still.

Best be moving on.

Move along.

The ghosts who called you back

Be long gone.

There only remains residual

Energy of things turned to ash

Blowing now

In the wind.

Head East, or North

South or West.

It is best you move along.”

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