Twas a sunny Tuesday morning, when all through the streets All the people were pointing at a plane on a hot streak. The screams could be heard all over town, As people watched the plane, make its deadly trip down. There was a loud bang as the plane exploded. While people tried to escape, the buildings’ strength slowly eroded. Sirens started sounding. Let the chaos begin. Frantic victims rushed out and heroes ran in. Some time went by and another plane came in sight. The South tower was hit. Something wasn’t right. Could someone be attacking the US of A? This cannot be. No how. No way. As the fire reached higher, to the top floors, Victims lost hope, starting looking towards heavens’ door. They leapt, they flew, out of the windows. Pretty soon their velocity reached its crescendo. Thump. Thump. You could count the dead. The gray of the sidewalk quickly became red. But there were others inside, still with a chance. Firemen kept climbing without a backward glance. Now NYPD! now Port Authority! On, FDNY and EMT’s! To the aid of the victim! To the heart of it all! You saved so many but watched your brothers’ fall. Twenty three, thirty seven, three hundred forty three, That made the ultimate sacrifice for people like you and me. But the terror was far from over. It had only just begun. As the South tower gave way, everyone started to run. The smoke and the ash billowed down and covered all, It was no longer a bright, sunny day in the fall. Some time later, the North tower crashed. Nothing was whole. The city was trashed. Inside the heaps of rubble, there were survivors to be found. Volunteers traveled for miles, both human and hound. The digging ensued, hour after hour, The people were thankful to escape the deadly tower. But unfortunately, not all that was sighted Could be considered delighted. Wallets, rings, cell phones, and shoes, The final items that the dead would use. As time passed, memorials were made. Funerals were planned, faces began to fade. We all said goodbye to the victims of that day In our own time, in our own way. Years have passed and the wound is still fresh. But there is one thing we would like to impress. As life goes on, we will always remember, That fateful, sunny day in September.
Posted on: Mon, 09 Sep 2013 17:22:45 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015