A little girl,
alone in the snow,
a photograph in her boot,
a tear on her cheek,
the face long gone,
the eyes forgotten,
denial and doubt overpower,
faith turns meek.

Athletes,
writers,
musicians, doctors,
minds quick and bodies were swift,
races and writings,
and tunes and care,
all were truly heaven's gift.
All were to have their share of dreams,
but stopped they were,
'twas nineteen thirty eight,
they could not see tomorrow's dawn,
for their dreams it was just too late.

And there they were,
all were there,
one beside another,
resting in snow,
lifeless forms,
not breathing,
not sleeping,
frozen forms,
lying row on row.

The loss of freedom,
the loss of home,
all but a speck in the loss of the dear,
her mother's eyes,
once live now still,
the girl's eyes,
now gripped with fear.
Her gaze,
now rooted in place,
fixed upon the lifeless sight,
footsteps sound,
they come at once,
Bang!
No darkness,
no light.