After It's Gone! Poem by Eric Cockrell

wild eyed strangers...
kids wearing dirty clothes,
and hand me down coats.
people walking, head down,
in the early morning cold.

just a few stores open,
the price of gas up.
smoke rises from chimneys,
all is quiet, as if waiting,
for the next storm to come.

life goes stumbling down,
the mail falls from the box.
families sleeping in cars,
gotta move with the sun.
the town clock strikes, echoing,

the steps of boots long worn...
empty buildings shout out
the rage of the dispossessed.
all that was, or could be,
now nothing more...

than the bitter taste of coffee,
two hours after it's gone!