from the Russians
from the Germans
from the bombing
mother said go and I did
with my treasure
sewn in my wool jacket
shivering in ditches
under the moon
I kept going
to where I did not know
a few coins in my pocket
a bag of dry bread
some shriveled carrots
finally days, weeks later
a large man pulled me out
from under the bridge
handed me a chocolate bar
smiled and said
the Americans are here
always
my enameled egg
on the mantle
reminds me of chocolate
and kindness
dedicated to Frau Groelich and her story
