THE SAD HOMECOMING
 
     Ten stormy days at sea - we'll soon be home!
     Tonight's the last big party.  Now we roam
 
     the decks to say goodby ....  The placard's brief,
     stark words from Dallas turn our joy to grief.
 
     Our celebration has become instead
     a funeral service where we mourn the dead.
 
     The Lady does not lift her lamp the night
     we dock.  A nation mourns; she dims her light.
 
     The dreaded Customs waves us through without
     a search.  New York is stilled .... few cars about.
 
     "Last week he opened this stretch where we drive."
     We hear the second shot on 95.
 
     Once home, we dump the bags, drive downtown, cry,
     and join the line to say our last goodby.
 
                                   r.i.p. 
 
   Copyright 1988,  Mary Lee Dante
--- Maximus/2 3.01
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