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the streets were bare
grey darkened lines
wind blew wearily through these paper strewn alleys
he tripped over the remains of wreckage gutted with blood
returning to the aftermath drew visions of remorse
where grief had lay beside their melancholic plight

the only survivor of a forgotten world
he walked until only his mind could wander
aimlessly through time to streets of life
cafes
broadways
theatres
enhanced through autumn color

parks filmed with leaves danced in smooth easy breezes
shadowing abreast of winters cold
wrenching now deeply at his fragmented soul
lit only by the firelight of courageously burning debris
sitting for a moment to replenish his might
standing up he could touch each face
the terror gave way to shrieks of death
cries of bewilderment
sounded out gunfire beyond

passing the lives of broken comrades
he walked on alone
all that was their’s was nothing at all
as only he could now stand tall
the street lay bare as he walked further out
stopping
turning
to hear their shout

driven further onwards by an inner sense of strength
which thrived on fear
overpowering himself
the fear of the past was with him this day

with his lonesome journey now meandering to an end
the world of yesteryear was hear to stay
as a war riddled with greed
had encircled his soul

death reigned victor on these dark cladden streets
escape had caught up to him
shallowing his path
there was no life in wartime aftermath