September 11
      

       Still you wave,
       leaning through the early hour,
       wind ruffling your sleeve.
       See the beacon of your hand
       drifting through a cloud 
       on this sunny, cloudless day.

       Still I gaze,
       trying not to look,
       but looking just the same.
       With open arms, I wait
       beneath the falling light
       to gather in your shade.

       How long will you travel
       before the two of us can meet?
       A lifetime?
       Maybe two.
       One for you. 
       And one for me.


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