day I curse myself for not remembering, never able remembering, always remember this, always remember this feeling passing through a hall of voices, loved ones making last calls in frantic tones, dial tones “last call for flight 93� from knoxville, like me calling home, could be me each one of you, someone held once but not then, oh how I can never know, how I hope each one of you is a star in the quiet night sky.
hamstead 27