I sit in the walled <br />bunker of my mind, <br />perched on its revolving turret, <br />looking through its windows, and see <br /> <br />only the friendly, waving trees, and hear <br />only the breeze in their branches. <br />The sky is motionless <br />in its blue chemise. <br /> <br />There's nothing to defend against. <br />For once, the turret can rest, <br />the walls can come down.<br /><br />Max Reif<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/06new-another-poem-on-the-balcony/
