Monday, December 8,1980.10: 50 P.M. Poem by Francie Lynch

Monday, December 8,1980.10: 50 P.M.

Monday, December 8,1980.10: 50 P.M.
I was sound asleep. Work tomorrow

Tuesday, December 9,1980

Alarm on. Out and into shower.
Shave. Can't hear radio.
Getting dressed, and in the background I'm hearing "Imagine."
Then "Wheels, " "Beautiful Boy, " "Help, " "I Should Have Known Better."
And the news sinks in. And I have to go teach Grade 6 English
and read Curious George to four classes of Kindergartens and Grade ones.
And, I'm alone in my new house, in a small town called Aylmer (population 5,000) .
My wife is away during the week at University, and I hate my job,
and he's decaying on some slab as I read to twenty-five five year olds. Some of these kids will get to know and love his work. So will their kids and grandkids. I know. Like Mozart.

Tuesday, December 9,1980.10: 00 P.M.

Me, Jack D. and my turntable going round and round, like his wheels.

Tuesday, December 8, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: death of a friend,music
Richard Wlodarski 08 December 2020

Francie, I like this one even better than your first one. I love the way that you've integrated your personal and professional lives into this powerful tribute. It gives the reader a very good insight into your nature. I commend you for that.

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Leeann Azzopardi 08 December 2020

Simply the best tribute to John ever Thanks for this poem

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Francie Lynch 08 December 2020

It was a day the music died.

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Francie Lynch

Francie Lynch

Monaghan, Ireland
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