A Little Girl
And so I have a story of a little girlin a paper dress of freedom colours.
The protagonists, both are gone
but the story lives on in a family album
One where the pictures are words not images.
I have another story, of the same little girl
wheeling a piglet in her dollies pram,
while the soldiers searched the house
she wheeled and cooed to her pink baby.
I have a story of a little girl on a train
travelling to a camp not far from the swiss alps,
a little girl in her winter clothes, that grew to small
as she grew too thin, and lessons
were learnt in draughty huts and treats were few.
I have a story of a little girl, who cried
when she saw her first banana, who shied away
from a soldier who offered her chocolate,
who was scared of the eagle on the landing
these are the stories that have been passed
down, played often, yet perhaps not often enough.
I only knew them second hand
I have a story of a little girl in a paper dress,
made with sore fingers, tired souls to celebrate
that somewhere in the merciful
that they, would be the ones to return home.
Poetry by Elle
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Written on 2015-05-08 at 20:48
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