It may happen again - this much <br />I can always believe <br />when our dawn fills with frightened neighbors <br />and the ancient car refuses to start. <br /> <br />The gunfire of locks and shutters <br />echoes next door to the house <br />left open <br />for the troops that are certain to come. <br /> <br />We shall leave behind nothing but cemeteries, <br /> <br />and our life like a refugee cart <br />overturned in the road, <br />a wheel slowly spinning...<br /><br />John Haines<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-flight-3/
