You wander, a solitary ghost, Through streets where shadows softly boast. Each house, a portrait, hushed and still, A frozen tableau, caught by chill. The playground swings, deserted, bare, No laughter echoes, no children dare. The park bench waits, a vacant seat, Where silent echoes whisper, incomplete. A mailbox stands, its flag unfurled, No letters wait, no news from the world. The window panes, like watchful eyes, Reflect the vacant, empty skies. A neighborhood asleep, or worse, extinct, A haunting scene, a chilling instinct. You walk alone, a phantom's tread, Through streets where life has long since fled.