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                        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.