Requiem For A Refugee
When the wind
drives low
from the east
in gentle wafts ..
The sound
of so very many
infant children,
each crying
in some remote
bombed out
and distant ruin
or drowning
in some dubious,
foul-fitted
and sinking craft,
may yet still
be heard yelling,
or moaning ..
The fact is though,
the first time
that I heard them,
I was busy
working on one of
my last alibis ..
When most likely
by chance,
an unexpected
gust came
from nowhere
and it
casually blew me
clean away ..
And whereas we
all know
that kind of thing
should
never really
happen ..
You can bet your
life that it
surely does happen
and every single day ..