Here is my contribution to remembering.
Mr Smith, depicted in the poem, is purely fictional. Any likeness to a real person is purely coninsidental, and I apologize.

Oh Nine, one one, two double zero one.
The sun rose in the sky
As it did many times before.
People went to work, children to school
No one was expecting such horror.

Sitting at his desk, doing some work
Some thought of Mr Smith as a jerk.
He, like so many others, were caught off guard
When the plane struck the building, it moved and jarred.

Calm turned into chaos, routine to turmoil
Smoke burned their eyes, Fire made their skin boil.
Mr Smith fled for his live, desperate and afraid
Many attempts to save them all were made

Before the shock settled, another plan struck
Mr Smith died, he ran out of luck.
Yet the worst hadn't come
The two buildings collapsed, one by one.

Leaving nothing but dust and debris
Firefighters and police got closer to see
What had become of the two monoliths
That fell to the ground taking people to their deaths.

Now some looks upon that spot with sadness
Others feel nothing but contempt and madness
It's something that the whole world will remember
The tragic event on the eleventh of September.