Empty Walkway
In SoCal under a dark and gloomy sky so wide,
Stands a walkway deserted, with loneliness inside.
Covered for construction, a symbol stark and clear,
Of a city held in silence, in the grip of fear.
This path once thrummed with the pulse of life,
Now echoes with the absence, cut like a knife.
The theatre s nearby, once alight with dreams,
Stand like dormant giants, in the lockdown's streams.
The walkway's empty arms stretch out in vain,
Pipe and canvas, longing for life again.
Each step not taken, a story untold,
LA’s rhythm paused, a narrative on hold.
Melancholy whispers through the scaffold's bones,
In the heart of "Lonely LA", where solitude roams.
An empty walkway, once a trail to wonders untapped,
Now a monument to a world unwrapped.