Diary of an Old Woman
In my mind's eye
I can see her;
Her dark hair now silver grey,
He smooth child's cheek
now wrinkled
by the light of many days.
Such days as those
she never saw.
Informed upon
and dammed.
Anne Frank lies in
a common grave,
No tombstone bears her name.
Imagine, in a better world,
if her family had survived.
Somewhere, in anonymity,
she might still be alive.
If Anne Frank's family had not been turned in by an unnamed informer, she might have turned 83 yesterday. this poem is a companion piece to my "The Annex"
