Inspired by TV interview of a young man who lost his recent bride in the upper floors of the Trade Center on 9/11

September Eleven

In the summer of her life
she came to him,
lingering yet of springtime green.
Responsive love became a song,
that haunted him,
as day begat the night.

Love's passions shared,
he could not know
caprice of fortune had ordained,
when fruit is gone
before the frost of winterset,
fate's claim must intervene.

Would that last breath
had spared him grief,
but life's mosaic reigned supreme.
On alone, his soul cries out,
The legacy of love cannot
be empty solitude.