On December 8, 1980, I wasn't even a year old, but John Lennon's brilliant life came to an untimely end when he was fatally shot by a sick fan outside his apartment in New York City. I admire the man, and for a creative writing class in high school, I wrote this:
My Day With John
We'll walk in strawberry fields forever
and onto the norwegian wood
you say, " baby you can drive my car"
you know i would if i could
we talked about yesterday
and the good day sunshine
you said happiness is a warm gun
and I said, I feel fine
you showed me Maxwell's silver hammer
and said tell me what you see
I had no reply
so just said, " let it be'
Then you announced "I am the walrus!"
and i said "Beg your pardon?"
as we got on a yellow submarine
to the octopus' garden
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