Flash 55 ~ Ghost towns

Human vision
creative dreams
ideas made real
triumph of man supreme.
Beneath the surface not all as it seems~
solid shells
empty guts
architects’ vision turn to rust
fall to dust
Death has come, as it must.
Flesh has fled
blood is drained
restless spirits all that remain
Till Nature moves in
the land reclaimed.

~*~
This flash poem was written as part of the Imaginary Gardens with Real Toads Flash 55 Plus prompt.

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