Adolf In Touch
Sometimes, though not often anymore
Hitler taps my shoulder
Be serious you laugh, this could not be
But you are you and I am me
Quietly reading, hidden in a book
As I so often was in midst of Blitz
A fast running front, a storm
A roll of thunder crumples in the distance
Grows louder near
Flashes and crashes here
Rumbling recedes
The storm passes
And my subconscious
Listens for sirens
Sounding All Clear
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