By Clotile Sanford-Hunt
There is a man who wanders from here to there looking for the forgotten places.
Places that only the wind remembers their name.
Buildings that the wildflowers tell stories about when the moon is full.
Traveling down paths that lead to what used to be.
Crossroads lost in time.
Walking along the river’s edge looking for signs of a lost wooden bridge.
Sitting on the banks of a slow-moving brook at sunset.
Whispers filling the air near the old swimming hole.
Laughter of days never to come again.
Discovering roads that lead to nowhere.
Exploring the remnants of the past.
Always searching for what was lost or abandoned.