Your eyes, once hopeful
gazing past infinite horizon
now turn inward
you see yourself lost

Your eyes like stars glittering
in our countries’ firmament
become flaming meteors burning
dissolving into space

Shrouded black veil
hides vacant look,
sorrowful breeze brushes
tearless face

Lyndon raises his hand
all look on, hear, “I do.”
you soldier next to him, stare
dried blood stains your clothes

Ambitions, sweet desires
gone with Jack’s last breath
tortured eyes rest on his face
your breathless anchor

Sister Anne’s shaking voice knells, “He’s been shot!”
I sprint home through first Montana snowfall
slip and slide on uneven sidewalks
clouds and flakes grey up fated afternoon

I slurp Campbell’s Chicken soup
smell Velveeta sandwich toasting
black and white TV sits on corner of kitchen table
I see you aglow next to him in uncovered limousine

Roses grace open palms,
pill-box hat regal as a crown
His Irish smile believed he was dearly loved
but inside me now lives the shocking silent truth