ANNY IN A SMALL CAFE.

[dadio]

In a small cafe, Anny sits at an
Adjacent unoccupied table as

We sip our cappuccinos and lattes,
Swinging her ghostly legs as children do

Beneath the chair. There is too much chatter
In the air, talk overriding talk, smiles

And fits and starts of loud laughter, waiters
Going back and forth and you alone see

Anny there, a small tied ribbon in her
Long blonde hair, her blue eyes gazing, her lips

Mouthing words, you cannot hear in the din
Around, just her lips moving, but no sound.

You try to lip read, but fail, the passing
Waiters break the spell. So unable to

Communicate she dismounts the chair and
Walks to where you sit with others, each in

Conversation with each, and stands beside
Your chair, curling a ghostly finger through

Her long blonde hair. She talks to you, her words
Soft as butterfly wings, each word moulded

By her small mouth’s movement. You answer with
Nods and shakes of head in case others who

Are present think you converse with yourself,
Not wanting to say you talk with one dead.

Anny wanders around the round table,
Taking in the words they say, looking now

Over shoulders, smiling at you, watching
Their lips move, the endless dull chatter, you

Knowing that to Anny Horowitz, small
Ghostly Anny, after Auschwitz, nothing

Else much in her world and ours can matter.

[WIREMAN]

beautiful poem and pic dadio.....

[dadio]

thank you, wireman.

[joel]

To be re-membered with those who live more easily is never easy, but always beautiful, if always also somehow insufficient.... Beautiful girl, Dadio.

[dadio]

thank you, Joel.