No one there to see the sights of moonlit bay and northern lights. Or see the shadow as it falls on empty homes and crumbled walls. No sound at all save wind and wave a town as silent as the grave. But the sun still greets the coming day o'er fields where childern once had played And if you listen to a summer breeze as it wispers through the alder leaves You may hear voices or so it seems Of a time long past on a field of dreams.   Submitted By: NULL