Forty-Seven Years Ago

Where were you in ‘63
On this November date?
Surely you remember
If you weren’t born too late.

How you heard has certainly
Been branded in your mind.
That’s the day when innocence
Was cruelly left behind.

The images repeatedly
Shown on the TV screen
Remain indelible and still
Surprising and obscene.

The pillbox hat, the bright pink suit,
The head snapped back, the blood;
John-John’s small salute releasing
Tears enough to flood.

Before the towers tumbled down
We had ourselves a taste
Of how a gorgeous day could soon
By horror be replaced.

Those who weren’t yet alive
Have heard, but can’t remember;
But we who watched will not forget
That sad day in November.