He sees the soldiers marching down,

She sees the police on an arresting spree,

He feels the dirt and the cold, rough arms,

She feels the cuffs biting her wrists,

He hear the angry spats and yells,

She hears the foreign voices of people,

He tastes the bitter iron blood,

She tastes the dried spot in her tongue,

He smells the burning city smoke,

She smells the gas from the truck,

He sees his doom, a camp of death,

She sees the wire cut her freedom,

He feels the pain in his legs,

She feels the scratchy clothes on her body,

He hears the shouts of cruel, angry men,

She hears the screams of dying children,

He tastes the tasteless food of gruel,

She tastes the dirt for a hard days work,

He smells the gas of burning death,

She smells the boy of dirt and sweat,,

He sees the girl looking at him,

She sees the worn face of pain,

He feels her hands clutching his,

She feels his callused hand hold tight,

He hears the terror of the kids,

She hears his heavy breathing,

He tastes the boring spit all dried,

She tastes the morning gruel flakes,

He smells the oil from a gun,

She smells the smoke from a bomb,

He sees a the men, aiming guns,

She sees the black, barrel of death,

And they see no more.

This poem was inspired by a friend of mine. This is an elegy to be children of the Holocaust. All those children who are lost in history deserve this. So I hope you take this to heart.

~FlyandFall