The TV flickers on

outside the warm wind blows

autumn's peeking in

Man's voice speaks

there's a fear wrapped around it

though he tries to be brave

I pause

hooking my bag over my shoulder

I'm on my way out

His voice becomes quicker

CNN, BBC journalists

sound confused

I look up to the screen

I never liked the news

always full of bad stuff

I hear him speaking

another journalist's on the phone

her voice sounds just as scared

The first plane hits

smoke and broken bits fill the air

the second follows suit

I don't realize

that I have screamed

Was someone else's voice

I don't realize

the tears on my face

burning their way down

I don't realise

my body's gone limp

the contents of my bag spill to the ground

*Author's note-a tribute to all those who were lost. We still cry.*