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Smoke From Chimneys

Whenever you see
smoke rise up
from chimneys,
you think of her:

Anny Horowitz.
You think of Auschwitz.
1942.
A nine year old Jew.

Whenever you smell
smoke from chimneys
and see it
rise up into blue skies,

you remember her:
Anny with her blue eyes,
at Auschwitz
with her blonde hair

and sad face
dying there.

poem by Terry Collett
Added by Poetry Lover
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