Diary Of An Old Woman Poem by John F. McCullagh
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.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 8:04:47 AM # 1.0.0.1119
