On an eve in an era of prosperity and peace
morning revealed its canvas;when beauty shuddered and ceased
Its palette suddenly marred with an artist"s bloody brush
while fleeing figures below ran in body-trampling rush
Where once blazed skies of blue on an ill-fated summer"s day
a shrouded curtain fell,covering brightness with death-grey.
New York"s mighty twins on fire!
Amid melting metal and silenced screams, they did fall
as guardian angels turned their backs, heeding not the call.
In one flashing moment of time, America"s innocence dies
Now a nation, my nation, through tears of ashes cries.
From my journal on September 11th
© Copyright: Deenichka, 2001
Свидетельство о публикации №101101200143
Свидетельство о публикации №101101200143
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