The blue lights will again split the sky
Though not without a battle.
The names will once again be read
But by voices on recordings.
The lingering pain, now aged nineteen,
Has not been killed by any virus.
It lives on in a thousand hearts
With no choice but ro grieve alone.
The flags are hung just half mast high
The marching bands are silent
The media is reticent
To add to the depression.
Memorials are quarantined
No gatherings allowed
But love and memories abide
In every heart this date has touched.
ljm
I can't see the tower lights from Nevada, but I need to know they're there.