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By US National Park Service emloyee (nps.gov) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

This was a poem I wrote on September 18, 2001.  Prayers for all of those still affected by this horrible day in our history.

Butterflies dance round flowers’ bloom
And spring turns into summer warmth.
The boys run up and down the beach
As sun beams set on Monday’s eve.

To sleep, to travel to the morn,
And as we get to sun’s slow rise
The day is born – a stillborn birth
For not to see the livelong day.

The flames put out the clearest skies
And soot to cover cleanest souls.
To march away from death’s abode,
A funeral’s march across the bridge.

The bride today has lost her groom,
In gloom she stands among the wreck,
She sings a song of lonely woes,
He hears her song but not from earth.

And turning back to see the place
Where Satan’s hand grasped many hearts
No fear, God’s touch now wipes away
The dust, the anger from their souls.

And as the night of death’s stale breath
Turns into day, a new sun’s here.
And butterflies roam with shadowed wings
Their flower’s gone, they fly away.