November 13, 2011
I've always been alert to it.
To teachers whispering.

Second grade.
Story time interrupted,
By 5 seconds of whispers.

What is it Ms. Baker?

30 eyes, locked on her.
Thirsty for the secret shared.

A barn burnt down.

A lie.
Oblivious, we accept this.

Home that day,
I learn.

The Towers were the barn,
The cows, the people.
Falling down to their demise.

Now, each whisper,
Burns into me,
What might be waiting at home.

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