Blood And Rain Poem by Chris Darlington

BLOOD AND RAIN BY Chris Darlington
It only takes the damp, dirty streets and the smell of cheese and onion crisps, to remind me of the assassination announcement.
Old people in the dole queue grieved for a stranger.
Kennedy was dead, he'd been shot.
Even at seven years old, I knew the world had changed.
I walked slowly home holding my fathers hand, fighting back fierce tears for a stranger.
I wondered what his children would do, without their fathers hand to hold.
We arrived home soaked to the skin, watching the rain Kennedy would never see.