National Poetry Month Day 9: Ghost Town

The prompt for today was Ghost Town and this melancholic chant poem appeared. Enjoy.

Ghost Town

Faded red vinyl counter seats,
Beyond cracked window panes
and their broken neon sign
that won’t flash anymore
The Last Chance Diner isn’t what it used to be

It used to be the beating heart
of the picture-perfect town
They lived for tourists in the summer
until that Interstate passed them by
The Last Chance Diner isn’t what it used to be

Now it stands alone, abandoned,
owners fled to greener pastures
and all their dreams left behind
with ghosts remaining on faded red vinyl
The Last Chance Diner isn’t what it used to be

© A. F. Stewart 2023