The old dusty road.

The sun pierced the burnt out tree's, astonishing new growth restrains, clinging to the corpse of bushland,  a peaceful structure there remains,  the dusty road to nowhere, a torn up town at either ends,  the configuration of a life that changes course and bends. The road lay with soot debris the coal remains unwashed by rain, the further side of the mountains shells with vintage worn out trains
A ghostly site for onlookers 
The townships ceased to breath, all the life sucked out of them,  where people were forced to leave,  the old dusty road makes echoes,  some might call the wind it's home
But nothing comes and goes by often,  it stands abandoned and alone.