Surreal Day In Saigon

When I was oh so wee
I sat upon grandma's window sill
And watched the sky with glee
The day they stopped to kill

Flying machines filled the sky
Like swarms of buzzing bees
One with a cross swoshes by
With a soldier's wounded knees

Propellers fluttered overhead
Such a marvel to little me
As I dipped my slice of bread
In my condensed milk tea

I watched well into the night
And wished it would never end
But mosquitos began to bite
And grandma said to come again

I snug a final hopeful glance
As I bid a fond so long
To lights that seemed to dance
That surreal day in Saigon

This poem was inspired by a Sunday Scribblings writing prompt, "When We Were Wee".