The Day America Died Poem by Eric Cockrell

i am the old farm house,
the iron skillet, and the well.
the mule and the plow,
and momma's family Bible.
i am the single shot.22,
squirrel dumplings,
and strawberry pie.
i am collard greens,
pintos, and cornbread.
i am the field plowed,
wood cut and stacked.
jars of green beans
stacked on the shelf.
i am the work hardened hand,
and the gentle touch.
i am the simple things,
that cant be bought.
i am generation after generation,
footstep after footstep.
the prayer of scrubbed faces,
and saturday night pickin'.
i am the day it all ended,
the day the bank came around...
the day America died!