The Last Alarm: 9-11-01 Poem by John F. McCullagh

Were you climbing up the stairs when you heard the last alarm?
Whispering a desperate prayer to somehow keep you safe from harm?
When the towers were collapsing and that debt all owe came due,
Were you proud of your life choices as they passed in quick review?

Sometimes, late at night, when dreams, not nightmares, come
I'll awaken with a start from sleep and once more speak your name.
Sadly, these days you're nothing but a picture in a frame,
For your last alarm has sounded; a death knell for my son.

It is hard to keep on living when the boy I loved has gone;
to face grey days of emptiness when Life has lost its charm.
The job you had to do that day, you did with grace and calm,
You were just a wingless angel rising to the last alarm.