We leave tonight

on a midnight train.

It is hard to say

goodbye.

One more goodbye

in this year of goodbyes.

Felicitas and I have played

for many hours.

Now we know

we may never see each other again.

What is there to say?

So good luck, good luck,

here is Mr. Chimney Sweep,

who brings good luck,

with his top hat and his broom

and his ladder,

and the delicate blue blossoms

of forget-me-nots,

as if I could ever forget

my friend Felicitas.

And here is a wheelbarrow

full of fortune,

more good luck.

But the wheelbarrow makes me think

of the click-clack-click-clack

that I heard on the stairs last night.

Click-clack-click-clack

click-clack-click-clack—

boots importantly hurrying,

then stopping

one floor beneath ours.

And this morning the Sterns were gone,

Ilse and her parents and brother,

who lived one floor beneath ours.

The Nazi police stopped,

filled their wheelbarrow with the unlucky Sterns,

and clattered off.