Vacant Eyes

standing in line
for a cup of soup,
second hand coats,
and worn out shoes.

the hands that
built your houses,
paved your roads,
worked your steel mills...

harvested your crops,
worked on your cars,
built your cities and towns,
your stores and your churches.

tremble with the cold,
hold the steaming cup
like a prayer...
wipe the corners of vacant eyes!

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!