Cancer's Approach on Me

It started in 1939. We're in Poland, having a great time. Then around 11 PM on May 31st, German tanks roll over the border while we're still trotting around on horses. On our heels, we all fell back. Through some miracle we roll over, crawl to the channel and swim over to England. What a nice place. The feeling doesn't last long. A few months at best. The planes are again over us. This time we're ready, but our response is merely defensive in nature. In a way, banding together in the shelter has become perfunctory.