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-freelance writer, editor
& published poet-
Alexandra S. Thompson
Old Money, No. 5
On dewy hotel mornings when
children’s breath hung in wisps over
beds mussed from sleep,
Papa in his army boots
yanked sheets off his children
and said the Germans were coming.
Years of invasions, of cold nights spent
packed in the Jeep,
toys left behind, clothes forfeited to an
enemy housekeeper.
I always wondered how Grandmumsy
learned to pack her things
so quickly.
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