HIS CITY WAS GONE

He stood in amazement
so much had changed.
It was a strange epiphany,
his once stoic symphony
had been knocked to its knees.
The Central Park trees failed
to hide the absence of
the majestic twins. The brownstone
once home was a mecca for
tourists and purists who needed
closure. The exposure wrought
could not be bought; a recluse,
a self-abused; self proclaimed
Caulfield in search of fame
and a name to remember.
That cold December. He could
not see past the last place
he had seen in life, leaving
a young son, a wife and
an adoring nation that came
in adoration of his journey.
Seeing it again was hard,
in the Dakota courtyard
a stain remains. Reliving it
again and again he hears it.
“Mr. Lennon?” Bang, bang,
shoot, shoot. A warm gun
and a Double-Fantasy.
New York City gone wrong.
His city was gone.

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3 thoughts on “HIS CITY WAS GONE

  1. Pingback: ABSENCE OF HEART – THROUGH THE EYES OF A POET'S HEART

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