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Michael Neal

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Member Since: Mar, 2003

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A Tuesday in Littleton
by Michael Neal

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It started with many tense faces

gathered around the radios as I walked place to place.

Could this news be real?

I wasnít quite sure what to feel.



The radio was full of dispassionate analysis.

Callers and talkers and talkers and callers

It means this, it means that, itís everyoneís and no oneís fault.

And how could this happen the chorus sang.



Once at home an extra long hug

The news had not spread I found out with a shrug.

An extra long gaze at the child in my life

And coded discussions with my wife.



The TV has images too unreal to take.

The puppets spouting numbers of dead and hurt.

Confusion and disbelief dominate the night.

What will tomorrow bring to lives that were normal?



I finally go to bed in a daze.

Depression the new phrase.

Just what does all this mean?

In my dreams I only want to scream.



The news the next day shows the numbers are fewer.

Somehow that does not diminish the effect.

Outpouring from everywhere

No one knows what to do or feel or believe.



Two weeks later I think its over; it could not have been real

A distant memory, a pain much to great to feel

How did the parents ever cope?

How can I regain my own hope?


It started with many tense faces

gathered around the radios as I walked place to place.

Could this news be real?

I wasnít quite sure what to feel.



The radio was full of dispassionate analysis.

Callers and talkers and talkers and callers

It means this, it means that, itís everyoneís and no oneís fault.

And how could this happen the chorus sang.



Once at home an extra long hug

The news had not spread I found out with a shrug.

An extra long gaze at the child in my life

And coded discussions with my wife.



The TV has images too unreal to take.

The puppets spouting numbers of dead and hurt.

Confusion and disbelief dominate the night.

What will tomorrow bring to lives that were normal?



I finally go to bed in a daze.

Depression the new phrase.

Just what does all this mean?

In my dreams I only want to scream.



The news the next day shows the numbers are fewer.

Somehow that does not diminish the effect.

Outpouring from everywhere

No one knows what to do or feel or believe.



Two weeks later I think its over; it could not have been real

A distant memory, a pain much to great to feel

How did the parents ever cope?

How can I regain my own hope?

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Reviewed by Lady Peg (Reader)
My nieces were their and I was horrified for all the students and faculty excellent write.
poeggy
Reviewed by Ronald Hull
America is a big place. Hope rebounds in thousands of schools across the land. Childhood has seen greater horrors. Ours was just on television.