Old men out on the stoop stare blankly through their sullen eyes
As the world passes slowly by
Sweat shines like jewels in their steel-grey hair
Everyone has forgotten that they were still there
on Union Street that the store, that became a restaurant,
then another restaurant Is nothing but an empty space
Somewhere somehow we gave up the race
A town doesn’t die with a bang and a scream
But passes slowly with whimper and a sigh
Like the fading remnants of a forgotten dream
For sale signs hang on every street
Vacant buildings bake in the summer heat
A lonely and desolate main street
The death of a town is now complete
(JPM-7/19/11)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem