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| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Personal >> ID #1446905 |
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Of all the memories I own,
one stands alone. When I was four, from a fifth floor. The New York sky had turned to fire, As kids conspire. A pyrrhic win. A crazy sin. As people scrambled to survive. The Bronx alive. A party turned. A city burned.
© Copyright 2008 Scott Kuttner (Bronx) (UN: bronxbishop at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
Scott Kuttner (Bronx) has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |