Friday, 5 December 2003

Sleek silver bird

Bright sunny morning
not a cloud in the sky.
Under blue sky and bird-song
the morning begins in the city.
People hustle to catch the subway,
carrying coffees and papers.
The business pages and the 'toons;
a wonderfully normal day.

As work begins in the Tower,
the phonecalls come in
and the switchboard lights up.
The faxes start humming
and everyone has mail.
Suddenly a flash of light,
some heads turn just in time...
just in time to see the plane,
a sleek, silver missile
streaking towards them.
Closer and closer...

There's no time to run
no point in hiding.
They stand there staring mutely.
As the silver bird gets larger and larger
a murmur is heard as they realise
the cockpit is empty.
They died for a lie,
they died for the greed,
they died and now we kill in their names.


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