Posted: April 17, 2012 by briannaadkins in Abraham Lincoln -- A Life in Poems, BriannaA

Good Friday? There wasn’t anything good about it.

It was an unusually settled night.

I attended Ford’s Theatre with Abraham. We sat in the balcony with some of our friends.

The quietness of the room was broken by gunshot, piercing my ears.

Abe slumped in his chair, a bullet to the back of the head.

In seconds, my life came crashing down.

A man jumped quickly from the balcony to the stage,

escaping with my husband’s life.

FOOTNOTE: President Lincoln was assassinated on Good Friday, April 04, 1865. He was shot once in the back of the head while attending a play at Ford’s Theatre with wife Mary. He died the next day in a nearby hotel.


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