The luminous shine of the lampposts blurs my vision as I step off of the Rexnord 827 train.

The raspy air of fall crowds my lungs as the leaves begin to fall.
I wave to Granny as she rocks patiently on her porch, greeting those who once walked
the Streets of Old Milwaukee.
The sound of high heels on the red bricks and granite blocks echo throughout the allies.
The smell of the fresh dough from the bakery lingers on Biddle Street.
I feel a rush of bravery as I walk past the home of the Watson’s, who once walked
the Streets of Old Milwaukee.
The swirly lollipops, butterscotch disks, and candy canes occupy the Haymarket Candy Store.
The furnace fire in H. Kuhm’s General Store releases thick puffs of smoke.
I take one more stroll around, roaming the streets in which others once walked,
the Streets of Old Milwaukee.
The whistle of the Rexnord 827 train blares throughout.
The angelic moon peeks out behind the clouds as families prepare supper.
I see in one final gander, all of those who once walked
the Streets of Old Milwaukee.