Bitter Tears

I stood upon a grassy knoll
and watched with shaded eye
a cavalcade of motor cars
begin to pass me by.

They snaked along the avenue
and as they neared my spot,
Some people started shouting,
and i thought I heard a shot.

I looked across the plaza
to a building by the curve
and saw a tiny puff of smoke
then watched the limo swerve.

"My God, they've shot the president!"
a man beside me cried.
And in that instant of my life,
a place inside me died.

I watched in muted horror
as his wife embraced him tight,
while secret service agents
shielded both of them from sight.

Then as the convoy passed me by,
I looked into her eyes
and saw the pain reflected
when the heart inside you dies.

I mourn the loss of JFK'
and have through all these years.
As each November comes and goes,
I cry these bitter tears.