A voice, a tune resounds in my ear

A word unsaid yet crystal clear

The image of a girl crossing the frontier

The story so vivid, one I can still hear

 

The story was told by a girl of my age

Her face so expressive, overwhelmed by rage

Though reading her poem from a black and white page

She had me for the hour as though mistress of the stage

 

The poor little girl crossed valleys and plains

She ran, she crawled, she fought countless pains

She managed to escape the sight of the warplanes

Surviving off her tiny collection of grains

 

I remember every scene like it were my own

Her pain devouring me, bone by bone

I recall every image like it were mine alone

Giving me courage when all hope has flown

 

The way the story was introduced

Nobody could ever reproduce

The way the words ran loose

Showed me syllables in the best of use

 

It was as though at that moment her mind had a door

As she handed a key to both the rich and the poor

She led us like a guide from floor to floor

Giving us full freedom to wander and explore

 

Exalted and inspired, I began to rhyme

Attempting to sound like a melodious chime

I wrote and wrote for a glorious amount of time

Leading up to this hopefully rewarding climb