Caveat: Poem #1018

Firstly, we gazed askance at the spaceship
Plunging wild through the grim-faced sky.
Flares were winking on a trailing wingtip
Where a faded emblem seemed to fly.
Secondly, speakers sung with the voices
Screaming out dangers and proffering choices,
Hinting at various important things.
Dark was the mood then, beshadowed by wings.
Thirdly, our leaders emptied the city.
Multitudes fled to the sun-tortured hills,
Some of them starving while others sold pills
Which the wounded endured. Such a pity.
Endless miseries kept ensuing -
Doubts, above all. What were we doing?

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