There is a temptation to read this symbolically, but I read it literally. I can see the faded and even dying towns of the rust belt in NY.

Not long ago this was
just another ghost town,
now the streets breathe faintly,
shadows crouch in doorways,
sidewalks swept but crumbled,
their cracks filled with awakening.
Eager footsteps break the hush.

I remember my father had an office on Liberty Street, in Newburgh. And we went to the movies on Broadway, in the '50s. Then Newburgh became notorious for being a city that had died, essentially. I was just looking at videos (prompted by your poem). Too sad to link to them, and I wouldn't want to insult the people who live there.

It would be nice if hope returned to Newburgh.