Hashbrown Casserole for the Matchbox Twenty Soul

There was no thunder ever like it,
but it did not rain that day.
The sun was bright,
sky crystal blue,
not a single cloud.
Sunshine golden,
air crisp and clean,
it was my favorite kind of day.
Waited all year long
to enjoy the fruits of nature
and to awaken renewed.
Dreams rudely interrupted.
Eyes opened to confusion.
Untapped feelings growing.
Exactly 1039 weeks old.
Didn't it come crashing down
at 10:39?
I don't know.
Do I really want to?
Switch to moving pictures.
We believe what we see.
We believe what we know is real.
I did not believe.
If knowledge is power,
I became more powerful in 15 minutes
than I had in my whole life.
Concern was high.
Emotions overtook situation.
Frantic phone calls to loved ones.
Everyone is okay.
Everyone but...
them. So many.
SO MANY.
Did you hear me?
Hear me as I screamed?
It would take me until my 125th year
to know each one each week.
That many.
To just know a name a day,
17 more years from today.
That many.
I didn't understand,
and no understanding still.
My heart sighs for those lost.
You can only cry so much
at one time,
and it became numb.
Numb so long.
So many.
Too many.
And to think it was my
favorite kind of day.
So sunny too sunny.
There was no thunder ever like it,
but it did not rain that day.
It did not rain that day.