Elizabeth White, Grade 7
Silence echoes loudly here,
From this town can come no gain,
But when the living disturb the air,
Days long gone are lived again.
Sounds now fill the empty streets -
A barking dog, a creaky gate.
And little children keep the beat,
With “Dying, crying, concentrate!”
You step lightly, but still they hear.
You’ve woken them; that’s what they hate.
On every corner, they appear.
Watching, waiting, for you to faint.
It slumbers now, the old ghost town.
The spectres resigned to their fate.
But of a night, you can still hear:
“Dying, crying, concentrate!”