Silver Strands

Silver Strands Platinum it was, not a hint of gold Silver tiara was grandma’s crown Brushed over her head, to a bun rolled She always refused to wear it down It shone in the sun silvery bright Her bun boasted a badge of honor Holocaust survivor fled at night Now in the free world as a senior Nazi tattoos, numbers on her arm Smallpox scars were evident too But they never filled her with alarm A lucky lass, she had made it through A dark-haired teen had boarded a boat Marrying a man she met at sea Just their clothes, nothing else to tote Seeking the Statue of Liberty Each silver strand was born of worry For family in Poland left behind Her escape had been made in a hurry In a brave quest for freedom to find *Written for Susan and Andrea’s “Silver Strands” contest and inspired by my maternal grandmother’s escape to freedom