Missing, missing

I was seven when nine eleven struck. I remember it like yesterday and it's memory has stuck.
Sitting at the table in an old Iowa house, through moms tears all our lifes were touched.
When daddy turned the t.v. on his face was just to much.
I had to take a look at the the screen the sight near took my breath. "There she goes" was all my dad could whisper.
It was hard for me to comprehend. I knew it was bad, mom made us pray on mend.
It was near six weeks later while the news was on, the signs near made me cry.
Missing, missing, missing."Daddy aren't they all gone?" My tears i tried to dry.
My daddy nodded gravely, but never said a word. I went back to watching solemn as could be. People started believing in the Lord.
Missing, missing, missing signs would fill my mind.
I often hoped that to ease some pain, the bodies they would find.
To give the missing rest, in the earths warm breast.
Missing, missing, missing, words that filled my mind.
The missing, missing, missing, I hoped the Lord did often find.


Lydia Chambers
March 15th 2009 ( age 15 )
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