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The Morning They Stormed the Towers
A Poem of Lamentation Based on the Events of September 11, 2001
The morning they stormed the towers
And ruptured the city walls,
Flung aside drawbridges tall,
Scattered three thousand flowers.
The day they stole your kinsmen, your loyal steeds.
The day your kingdom bleeds.
Your pride was bled out and so was theirs.
There was no victory.
The day the towers fell, I courtseyed before the queen.
And stared, now into my Mars Bar, now into the TV screen.
They did it to be seen. And they were seen.
Because you didn't practice chivalry.
That night your dust roared underfoot,
A million frequent flyer miles away
From the chamber in which I lay.
My concerns shrouded over by the yearning for my young lover.
Never mind your city plundered into mourning.
Never mind they had issued you a warning
Before storming and tearing you down.
I wore a quiet frown.
Before I tossed my lace into the playful meadow for a kiss,
And rode away with my knight in merry bliss.
Musical adaptation entitled "When They Stormed The Towers" is available at http://www.myspace.com/jeannepoisson