Polka Dotted Dress

We met thirteen years ago this fateful day, I heard and saw, I could never have known what I would learn and see across the port that day... How true the words become... The evil that men do. I climbed the pile walking in heat, smell of cooked meat, cloud of ash smell of fear, tears fall from blocks above the adjoining buildings. mixed with concrete cracked from a broken skyline. I think about you more often then not, who were you? Where did you work? Kids? Pile caught you between 59 and 67 per the pillars of steal...twisted. My tear still falls for you...my Polka dotted dress. Seeing your last moment frozen. Your ring firm to your hurt hands. Glistening bright with a love you shared...reflected from the fires below us. my homing beacon... It got quiet. I heard you,.. You went home.