22 November 1963
Tea was out and father was in
And the coal fire cracked
And the ash wood spat
And the flames danced
in the hearth of that living room.
The valve radio muttered mysteriously in the corner
Brown and brooding and beaming
News over the air
I once looked inside its sinister side
Valves humming and hawing
Not quite tuned
It snatched the news and spat it out
“ The President has been shot “
I adjusted the woggle of my scarf
I eyed the time
Time for Scouts, hair combed
Shirt pressed, shoes polished
And I dreamt of long-shadowed horses
And a gun-carriage hearse
And a widow and sons black and bowed
On a bright, Washington winter morn
When the world changed forever.
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