When I was small I watched the twin towers
As we drove to New York each passing year.
They bloomed from the water to always appear
Steady as time—yet no longer ours.
From concrete made temporal as flowers
With the crash of a plane, the stall of a gear,
The turn of a channel where they disappear
To leave me wondering where they now were.
All of the seconds, minutes and hours
Abandoned their posts from all of our clocks
As we kept watching two falling towers
That fell on the city like children’s blocks.
From those two tall tops down through their cellars,
Gone, all those stories and story-tellers.
© David Caruso
Getting Here From There
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David plays guitar and writes haiku. He lives in New Jersey. He can't see Russia from his front porch but most nights he can see the moon. He invites you to browse on over to DavidHaiku.com.
