Resident's poem remember's fateful day in November 1963

This poem was written by Ella Kaywood shortly after the assasination of the nation's 35th President, John Fitzgerald Kennedy. Sunday will mark the 46th anniversary of his death.

My Tribute to J.F.K.

Under a bright clear Texas sky,
A noble man rode, his head held high.
A shot rang out from a high abode,
Death winged its way to the car he rode.
With laughing eyes and waving hand,
Sat the president of our land.
An assasin's bullet his life to take,
Saddening the whole world in its wake.
The dastardly deed was quickly done,
The grim reaper came, his battle won.
There were tears of sorrow in every eye
And even the sky began to cry.
The nation was stunned in its time of grief
Standing still in awesome disbelief,
That things like this belonged to olden days,
Not in our age with its modern ways.

The ultimate waste of his precious life,
His need was great in this day of strife.
He leaves his country to suffer their loss
In a rumbling world that gathers no moss.
Our flag at half mast to sorrowful wave
Cast a dark shadow over his lonely grave.
With guns to salute and bands to play
We laid him to rest at the close of the day.
No more shall we see his smiling face,
He dwells with heroes in a hallowed place.
He leaves behind an eternal flame
And a small son bearing a name the same.
Life is short and I know must end
But why not me? Not this great friend.
To judge is God's and his alone
For I remain and he is gone.
—Ella Caywood

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2009-11-19 digital edition

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