Hope
Hitler, I'd like to meet
and to him I will greet
Why do you hate the Jewish fleet
Their bare feet march down the narrow street
As Rabbis wonder if their maker is who they are going to meet
The unbearable German heat beats down on their skin
As they realize they will never return home again
As they realize that the battle they thought they could win
As they remember the dreams that could've been
Passes by them through the wind
This poem is about:
Our world