The last, the very last,
So richly, brightly, dazzlingly yellow.
Perhaps if the sun's tears would sing
against a white stone…
Such, such a yellow
Is carried lightly ‘way up high.
It went away I'm sure because it wished to
kiss the world goodbye.
For seven weeks I've lived in here,
Penned up inside this ghetto
But I have found my people here.
The dandelions call to me
And the white chestnut candles in the court.
Only I never saw another butterfly.
This poem was written during the Holocaust, of which starting tonight is a remembrance day.
The Holocaust was a horrible thing that happened.
Please don't bash or flame. I don't know if this is intermediate worthy, but it can be moved if needed. The timer is very off.