They are not there now
But they were ghosts even then,
The buildings like a stage set
Aged brick with rooftops sharply etched
Seemingly forever in the sun
And the stilled clouds.
We can’t know what was behind
The shaded windows, the dark enclosures
Unreachable to the eyes
We can’t even know the lone figure visible,
Almost a phantom,
Gazing from a window.
But is it endurance or resignation
To live out a ghostly loneliness
Like those old buildings
In their moment of light?
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