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Three Hundred Forty Three
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by
The Ironhorse Writer
© 9/08/2003
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They're as close to Guardian Angels
As we shall ever see
Souls resigned
Heroes defined
Three Hundred Forty Three
That morning in September
Day eleven, was to bare
The depth of hate
Untimely fate
A people, unaware
Dust, smoke, ash spewed forth
Choking the light of sun
Yet, within the breath of irony
Pigments of ethnicity
Had become a race of one
Gender, culture, creed were void
Towers, once proud, fell
And witnessed, did we
Three Hundred Forty Three
Take the fight, to hell
They're as close to Guardian Angels
As we shall ever see
Always remember
Day eleven, September
The Three Hundred Forty Three
Dedicated to the families of the FDNY
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