Milky mist poured from the heaven
Is gently soothing the town
The town of my birth
Like a woman touching velour

Mother holds my hand
Much tighter than usual

We have to run
To escape from this day dreaming reality

We saw it
When THEY got out of the huge white car
Pointed a trumpet shaped gun to a man
And pulled the trigger
To catch him
And to make his bones and his flesh
Crashed and cramped
To a size of a loaf of bread

And they saw us!
Yes for sure THEY saw us watching THEM
Now THEY are coming to catch us

Mother whispers at me:
Now, let us go
Let us run
Come, quick, save our lives

The mist is getting thicker and thicker
We have to tiptoe, tiptoe, tiptoe,
To get out of this day-dreaming reality.

Itsuka Yamasaki