After It's Gone!
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!
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Comments about this poem (After It's Gone! by Eric Cockrell )
(January 30, 1935 – September 14, 1984)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Alfred Lord Tennyson
(6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892)
Robert William Service
(16 January 1874 - 11 September 1958)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
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