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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
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