Seventy Six Missouri Poem by ERNEST CLARY

I went to seventy six
once a thriving town
now just a few bricks
scattered all around
I crossed the railroad tracks to a small trail
if not for history it was once a town
one could never tell
at the end of the trail the mississippi river was flowing by
it destroyed the town
of days gone by
once a town where people would eat and drink
now just weeds and trees
it made me think
its up to nature who it picks
once a tree now some sticks
here today gone tomorrow
like seventy six
near the barren bank
is where the laurel sank
where she went down
John Wilkinson set up the town
now in a cemetery atop the bluff
resting in the cold ground
not far from where he lost all his stuff
when the laurel went down
he survived a watery grave from the years past
and set up a town
he couldnt save
the water rose too fast
now just weeds, trees and some streams
passing through
it was once a home of dreams
to folks like me and you
in the ground he must weep
as he looks upon the town
that is now asleep
little did he know that the same river that took his ship the laurel down
would have the same fate
for his town
as he lay in his grave atop the bluff
with his kin at his side
he must think
I didnt do enough
but at least I tried
times were rough
then he died