Just For You Poetry

The journey now is much akin
to barren long left towns
where tumbleweed drifts aimlessly
between the old ramshackle homes,

with slow despondent footfalls
along deserted dusty streets,
blackened windows and boarded doors
echo all of life’s defeats,

a woebegone and broken soul
with no hope or chance to find
a way to get back what was lost
since the passing of the mind,

and with the darkness comes the cold night air
coupled with that vacant...Dementia stare.