Ghost on Rye Road

The World Without Us

Comforting to know
that public places stay
if we should die and go.

Our homes will empty
of our stuff. New paint
and furniture wont tempt me

to return, but I would walk
along our snowy path again
to leave no footprints, try and talk

to my ex-neighbours. No. 1312
will shudder, spooked, to hear
my cheery, "Cold as hell!"