In the waking hours, the silent streets
call forth the storied footsteps of our past,
on cobblestones now hidden by concrete.
Awakened now, our past on silent streets—
the wooden wheels, the clip-clop of hoof beats
the village square, the hub where folks amassed.
In these early hours, the silent streets
call forth the storied footsteps of our past
© Ginny Brannan 2020
NaPoWriMo #19 Recalls my hometown in Vermont.
Image Credit: Anne Collins, Photographer. Used with expressed written permission. Originally shared on the site: Growing Up in Bellows Falls.
Second Image found in historical archives, of same building many years ago.
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Thank you for reading my poetry and sharing your thoughts.