It was called the fall of Saigon, <br />When Uncle Sam withdrew support. <br />I watched from the bus that I was on, <br />One of the last for the airport. <br />A man ran alongside the bus, <br />Holding a baby in one arm; <br />Pleading with those he saw of us <br />To take his child away from harm. <br />The bus began to pick up speed. <br />My arms reached out; the man then smiled, <br />And ran faster to succeed. <br />But he stumbled and dropped his child. <br /> <br />Ever I'll hear the babe's last squeal, <br />Then crushed beneath the bus'es wheel.<br /><br />Ima Ryma<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/befall/
