Recollections of an Irish Childhood 8

22 November 1963

Friday evening , that time when
Tea was out and father was in
And the coal cracked
and ash wood spat and steamed
And the flames caught my eye
as they danced
in the hearth of that living room in Derry

The valve radio muttered
mysteriously in the corner
Brown and brooding
and beaming news over the air waves

I looked once inside
its sinister side
hiding 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
shoes polished
hair combed
Shirt pressed

and I dream of long shadowed horses
and a gun-carriaged hearse
and a widow and sons
black and bowed
on a bright Washington winter morn
when the world changed forever