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Hazel Casey Poem
She glances up, I look away
As if I hadn’t been staring in awe.
The way she walks, like a movie.
The way she stands, like a painting.
I didn’t have a favorite color,
Until I saw her.
The golden haze of her hair
The flowers she carries.
The way everything around her
Seems to need to adapt
They are to choose:
Yellow or no color at all.
As if the world bends for her.
I would tie my heart and life
Just to love her.
If only I could meet her gaze.
The beauty of that person
For me, is her
The yellow so beautiful,
The view is hazy, yet so clear.
The yellow I used to see
Didn’t mean much to me
The hot sun and bees that sting.
The sourness of a lemon.
The yellow I see now,
I see like I see her: beautiful.
The the sun burning as bright as her
and the peace of bees as they buzz.
The sweetness of a lemon pastry.
She adds sugar to yellow
And value to life.
I hope to someday catch her
Yellow gaze.
Copyright © Hazel Casey | Year Posted 2025
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Hazel Casey Poem
Hi! My name was Caroline.
I died in the plane crash at 2
I was going to Disneyland with my mom and dad.
In the crash, I lost my bunny
His name was Peter Rabbit
His ears were soft and I held him tight when I was scarred.
My grandmother made him for me
I want to forgive the people who did this.
My name was Daniel
I was killed during the initial rescue.
I was a firefighter and the first on our team.
The first to be killed.
I have dedicated my life to helping people
In their darkest moments.
I understand why the terrorists would do this,
But I don’t think I can forgive them
My name is Ronnie
My twin brother Richie died on 9/11
We were both there the day of the crash.
I on the 26th floor and he on the 105th.
We both loved football and chosen
The same career path.
I regret getting out without him
I can never forgive the terrorists for taking my best friend.
My name was Hani
I killed 184 victims including myself and friends.
I flew Flight 77 and crashed into the pentagon
We knew we weren’t going to survive
But we were told it was a good cause.
We were told it was a ransom until on the plane.
Looking back now, I regret everything.
I understand if I’m never forgiven. I’m sorry.
My name is Arya.
I was born in 2012.
I wasn’t alive during the attack,
But we learn about it every year
I want to understand the victim’s stories.
I want them to be remembered.
I can’t help but hate the hijackers
But I think I can understand.
Copyright © Hazel Casey | Year Posted 2025
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Hazel Casey Poem
The purple girl and blue boy too,
Both hide their joy, yet let it through,
Their laughter paints the grayest hue.
Love and fear—
They smile to hide a tear.
Beyond their gaze, the pain they hide,
Runs deep, a storm they cannot ride,
Yet through the dark, the light’s their guide.
For every night,
Will birth its dawn of light.
The girl of purple dances free,
Her grin a sun for all to see,
She chases ghosts of memory.
But now, somehow,
She’s found her peace for now.
The boy of blue, composed, withdrawn,
Appears intact, but hope is gone,
His thoughts still rage from dusk to dawn.
Yet calm does form—
His family’s heart is warm.
They seem so bright, just you and me,
Their smiles are masks of what can’t be,
But under layers, truth we see—
The spark grows stark,
A flicker in the dark.
Copyright © Hazel Casey | Year Posted 2025
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