Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
After all the crowds had gone, we came to the Rotunda where Our murdered President lay in state, resting in his coffin there. We shuffled in with our winds and woods to play a requiem for him. Leonard Bernstein, with his grey tousled mane, motioned that we should begin. Our fingers danced upon the strings as wood winds sounded sad and low. In Life he loved to hear us play and we had loved him too you know. Notes flowed in the November air, up to heaven for all we know, Music taking the place of prayer; for many of us its long been so.. We’ve played before Thousands in New York and in concert halls around the world, But this night we played just for him, for Massachusetts favorite son. We played Mahler’s requiem for an audience of one.
0
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 9:35 AM UTC
An Audience of One: Midnight 11_24_1963
After all the crowds had gone, we came to the Rotunda where Our murdered President lay in state, resting in his coffin there. We shuffled in with our winds and woods to play a requiem for him. Leonard Bernstein, with his grey tousled mane, motioned that we should begin. Our fingers danced upon the strings as wood winds sounded sad and low. In Life he loved to hear us play and we had loved him too you know. Notes flowed in the November air, up to heaven for all we know, Music taking the place of prayer; for many of us its long been so.. We’ve played before Thousands in New York and in concert halls around the world, But this night we played just for him, for Massachusetts favorite son. We played Mahler’s requiem for an audience of one.
Based on a tale I heard on WQXR about a private impromptu concert played for the murdered John F. Kennedy at Midnight on the eve of his funeral mass
john-f-mccullagh
Written by
63/M/American
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 9:35 AM UTC
Request permission to use this poem