What were we saying
when the plane hit
It was air
that whoosh
We had to trade in things
insert words
We had to hear what we
didn’t want to hear
I have trouble
these days
Its dawning on me
How little all this means
The current catches up and
All those pretty stones gone
There was a pause, when the plane hit
And since then we’ve been unsure
What were we saying?
We had decided to
go somewhere. Do something. But
The whoosh. We didn’t.
-Nina Alvarez
Poem of the Month 
I like what this piece conveys. Though I’m not quite sure whether or not I have understood this perfectly. It’s that moment when everything else matters. When a lifetime has almost come to a halt. All the wheedling and those things you thought golden have turned silvery—copper. And how those things we keep putting off have never gotten the chance to existence. Time has run out.