Ghost Towns
~*~ Painting By: Billie Cullimore (my mom) ~*~
High in the Mountains, between lost and lonely,
Lay dreams and memories untold,
And the bones of men with their weathered tombstones,
They’re the miners that came looking for gold.
Abandoned and broken, they wither away,
With no one there left to care,
The mines and the dance halls all closed long ago,
Leaving only the stories they shared,
The wind on Boot-hill blows weary and cold,
And what’s left of a thriving small town,
Now rests in the secrets of long, long ago,
As the buildings keep tumbling down,
Yet many a man made a fortune up there,
The lucky got out with their wealth,
So many passed with out leaving a sign,
The unlucky played the hand they were dealt,
The ladies of pleasure were treated,
Like queens of the night, so it’s said,
The thieves would swindle and steal you blind,
Or knife you and leave you for dead,
Some are remembered, many more are forgotten,
Most died tired and poor,
But the ghosts that haunt what’s left of these towns,
Chase shadows 'cross old wooden floors,
High in the mountains, between lost and lonely,
Lay dreams and memories untold,
And the bones of men with the weathered tombstones,
They're the miners that came looking for Gold.
This is a repost of my first poem submitted at Starlite,
It was inspired by the painting above, done by my mother,
Billie Cullimore.
I wanted to put the two together,
I hope you like them.
By Tracey
© 2012 Tracey
(All rights reserved)
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