Sunday, September 11, 2022

Of All the Dates

Of all the dates in history,

Today’s, to me, the worst.

Whenever it rolls ‘round, through time

I’ve instantly traversed.


The bright blue sky, the tiny planes,

The crash, with smoky thrust;

The bodies falling, buildings down

And everywhere, the dust.


The panicked people running

To escape the wild debris;

The stunned and silent city

Showing non-stop on TV.


Each generation flashes back,

With memory’s precision,

To one or two horrific dates

We perfectly envision.


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