Outside The Dakota (for John Lennon)

by Richard Davis

My friend points
across the street
to the hotel where
John took his last
walk on that fatal
December night.

I lift my camera
to take a photo
but will not.
Not here.

Staring at the spot
where he was shot brings
back the nightmare.
Grief overwhelms
me at the thought
of John staggering
forward and then
slumping to his death
on the cold hard pavement
before he could reach
the entrance door.

I turn my back
on the scene,
walk away with
my head down,
the city night is
busy with noise
but I don't hear
a sound.


Posted on 10/13/2011
Copyright © 2023 Richard Davis

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by George Hoerner on 07/11/14 at 05:34 PM

It sad how many people in this uncivilized country are killed every year with the movement or a finger. And we still believe we are more intelligent than animals.

Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 07/11/14 at 07:28 PM

Unique and fitting tribute, Richard. I'll never forget "the day the music died." Thanks for the well worded and thought provoking reminder. And congrats on POTD. Strawberry Fields forever.

Posted by Johnny Crimson on 07/17/14 at 11:50 AM


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