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Ghost Town
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Cowboy Poetry The swinging doors on Jake's Saloon,
hung at a crooked angle.
The old coral sat empty and bare,
once full of horses the cowboys would wrangle.
Main Street is silent now,
lined with false-fronted stores.
The once bustling Nelson's Mercantile is vacant,
with broken windows and boarded up doors.
Peterson's Blacksmith Shop was quiet,
where once the hammers rang.
The opera house had not a whisper,
where once old ballads were sang.
Boyd's Livery on the corner,
has fourteen empty stalls.
The old schoolhouse at the end of the street,
was missing it's south-facing wall.
At the opposite end of Main,
the little white church stood.
It's stained glass windows are shattered,
the steeple is missing some wood.
Millie's Boardinghouse was once filled,
where weary stagecoach travelers slept.
The First Bank of Morgan was once their pride,
where all their gold and money was kept.
Harper's Apothecary is where,
the locals came for their medication.
And old Doc Graber's house still had,
the sign that said he was on vacation.
The jailhouse of brick and iron,
sits in the middle of town.
Its where the sheriff filled the cells,
with the outlaws he brought down.
Sadie's Pleasure Palace once was,
one of the cowboy's favorite places.
Its there they spent their wages,
on ladies with painted up faces.
Morgan was once a thriving little city,
snuggled in the rugged west.
Now it was just a ghost town,
since everyone had left.
