Tears

I am the tiny spheres
That could have fell down her face
The warm droplets
That could have left a wet trace
I am the memories
That she would have poured out if she had cried
As the men took her away
But she stayed strong and held to her pride
I am the tears
That young Anne could have wept
Instead she held me in
With all the anger inside that she kept
I am the little puddle
That could have dropped to the ground
When the GP took Anne and her family
And left without a sound

[NOTE: This poem I wrote for the Holocaust unit at school. Anne in my poem is the famous Anne Frank]

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