Word Count: 340
In 1963, at the tender age of three,
the boy lost his father a man called Daddy and President Jack Kennedy.
A bullet cut him down on the streets of Dallas Texas, not Memphis Tennessee,
and the world saw it happen vividly on black and white tv.
There has never been a man or President loved by his people as he,
this man known as Daddy and President Jack Kennedy.
We saw this boy and his family now numbered only 3,
mourn the death of a strong man, father and husband cut down in his prime,
and who had lost him before it was considered his due time.
That boy is now a grown man in this year of 1999
and I woke up this morning to learn of the death
of John Kennedy Junior-the last of his blue-blood line,
A beautiful blonde haired woman he had found late in his life
and to his heart and hand had chosen for her to be his wife.
Again the tv – only colour this time,
announced the tragedy for this family so different to mine.
The death of John, his wife and her sister in a plane over the sea,
caused tears and sadness to wash and flow over me.
I didn’t know much of him, except what I’d read,
and he nothing of me, it could truly be said.
But we had things in common I and this man now late,
for you see in 1999 we were both married and aged 38.
In Heaven and in death he is united forever with father, mother and wife,
but back on earth we mourn the loss of yet another short life.
I will continue with hopefully this long life of mine,
but sometimes it would be nice to turn back the hands of time.