The morning rose in quiet light,
A thousand dreams began their day,
The city moved, the streets were bright,
And no one knew what lay away.
Two towers stood against the sky,
Like giants reaching toward the blue,
A symbol seen by passing eyes,
A part of New York, old and new.
Then suddenly, the morning changed,
A terrible and burning sound,
The world we knew was rearranged,
As smoke and fear came crashing down.
And through the clouds of ash and flame,
Were lives that vanished far too soon,
Each person more than just a name,
Each life a story, love, and home.
The firefighters climbed the stairs,
While others hurried down below,
They answered strangers' desperate prayers,
And faced a darkness few could know.
The police, the medics, volunteers,
The ordinary, brave and strong,
Walked forward through their deepest fears
To help those who had suffered wrong.
And when the towers disappeared,
The skyline seemed to lose its heart,
Yet from the sorrow that appeared,
A thousand acts of kindness start.
We remember those who never came
Back through those doors to greet the day.
We speak with reverence every name,
And hold their memories close today.
The towers fell, but not the flame
Of courage, love, and sacrifice.
And though the years have changed the frame,
Their memory does not fade with time.
So let the bells ring soft and clear,
Let candles shine against the night.
For those we lost, we gather here—
And keep their memory burning bright.
September's sky may look the same,
The towers no longer touch the blue,
But history remembers every name,
And we remember them, too.
September 11, 2001 —
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