September 11th 2001

The day is brisk and cold
fresh as fresh can be in
sun clad bustling city
Oh New York the heart of
America on the Hudson river
My ancestor lies sleeping
in Grant's tomb overlooking
The day is just unfolding
morning light spills warmth

In his bunker death stalker
waits knowing not caring
his commanders are unseen
he waits with baited breath
what goes on at the airports
are passengers really loaded
into planes bound for death
Women children men innocent
No No No this did not happen

Why is this nightmare surreal