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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=360045" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Wolf</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A scar that has healed on my finger<br>Reminds me of it everyday<br>The incident as vividly I remember<br>Tattooed in memory, you could say.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I was seventeen and my brother, older<br>Six children cramped in that place<br>A six -door apartment that cannot be wider<br>The ceiling was cracked and the paint lost its glaze.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We were not beggar poor but neither rich<br>So the absence of luxuries were a fact<br>We spent warm afternoons on the yard in which<br>We never craved for whatever we lacked.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One lazy afternoon, at almost sunset<br>We had come into the house for dinner<br>But my eldest brother remained there to let<br>The late hours of day somehow linger.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Then came this tall and boisterous man<br>Who demanded some ice for his drinks<br>My brother explained that we had none<br>But I felt there was some trouble, by instinct.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The man shouted expletives as my brother came in<br>And for fear, we shut the door behind him<br>As my brother said 'Duck! He's got a gun! '<br>We turned off the lights, the whole house was dim.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The man broke some windows and fired some shots<br>Gave vent to his anger out there on the street<br>As we ran out the backdoor into a vacant lot<br>A glass cut my hand and wounded my feet.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We went to the neighbors and we said 'Help us please! '<br>Our lives are in danger from a man with a gun<br>Can they kindly call up the authorities? <br>Then they told us, the drunk- 'He's a policeman.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>(This is a true story and that makes it more disturbing.)</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Cynthia+Buhain-Baello">Cynthia Buhain-Baello</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=360045" data-title="Wolf de Cynthia Buhain-Baello" data-description="A scar that has healed on my finger Reminds me of it everyday The incident as vividly I remember Tattooed in memory, you could say. I was seventeen and my brother, older Six children cramped in that place A six -door apartment that cannot be wide..."></div> </div> </div>
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