Dear John

A Poem

John: Alright, people, we've got a poem to read, so everybody shut up!

Me: *sighs* John, no one was talking.

John: I could hear Harrison breathing!

George: What?!?

Me: Alright, alright. Stop horsing around. Today we've got a guest!

John: *crosses arms* I don't know why he's here! This is MY newspaper column where MY fans write to ME.

George: Sounds like a song. I, me, mine.

Me: Before you get in a fight, let's get this show on the road. Monkee66 sent in a beautiful poem for you guys.

John: Yay!

George: What's it about?

Me: Here it is.

John was her favorite her sister liked George.
When he died her sister called her to see if she was ok
Then she went and spent a few days
She did the same when George died
They both went to Imagine and cried
Of the loss of their first crush and mentor
She met John once when she was young and restless
he was mean and sarcastic but he had some kind of zest
She also met George and for being dubbed 'The quiet Beatle' he had a lot to say
They talked about a lot of things George chatted about Liverpool and his boyhood days
When she came home 'round one PM her mother was furious and so was her sister but for a different reason
She got to meet her sisters' idol her one and only love, at least that is what it would seem like when she was fourteen
Now they both come here crying about loss, but they both stop when they hear the cooing of a dove
They look up and there in a tree sat two doves looking like they ought not to be crying over idols but living their lives happy and free
For it was John who rescued her and George who rescued me.

George: Wow . . . Am I the only one who imagined Janis Joplin singing this?

John: I don't know what to say.

Me: Looks like you're going to cry there, John.

John: What? No! I'm not crying. My eyes are . . . sweating.

George: *smirks* Your eyes don't sweat, John.

John: It was a very pretty poem, and I . . . It kind of . . . made me emotional.

George: Aw, isn't that sweet?

Me: What about the part where it says you're mean and sarcastic?

John: Well, it's true.

George: I'm flattered someone would write something so heart-filled about me.

John: It wasn't just about you. I was there too.

Me: I like the doves at the end.

John: *sings* Free as a bird!

George: *awkwardly stands up* Well, I better, um, get out of here because I gotta get to dinner.

Me: *raises eyebrows* You have to get to dinner in heaven?

George: Um, yeah. I mean, you have to eat, right? Even if you are dead.

John: *stands up* Yeah. We both have to, um, get to a . . . What was it? Quilting class?

George: *hisses* Dinner!

John: Oh, yeah. THAT. Dinner. No quilting class. Yep. Come on, Geo. Lets skedaddle.

George: Yes, let's.

Me: You guys just want to get out of here before everyone sees you cry.

John: What?!? Pfft. No. Quilting class.

George: Dinner.

John: Dinner at a quilting class.

Me: *suppresses laughter* I'd like to see that.

John: Anyway, see you around, Lils. And all those people reading.

George: Yes, see you. Dinner.

John: Sewing class.

George: Quilting.

John: Quilting.

Me: Just leave before you make even bigger fools out of yourselves.

George: Nice poem. Really gets the eyes sweating.

John: Yeah. Off to our quilting class!