Away from the glitz of the high rise and city lights, the old town remains
It’s by lanes dreary and tired looking, carry on the spirits, unwary
Of changing times and development chimes.
Life is slow yet chaotic, its soul still warm yet rustic
The doors open into each other’s home,
The windows keep a watch for the unknown.
Old wrinkled hands still reach out to bless,
The dilapidated house is a welcoming mess
Somewhere in this lost leftover town,
Is the echo of our childhood, waiting … to be heard once more.