The Last Train To Auschwitz

Brown and worn She slowly trundled, Carrying the tattered and torn Clutching their bundle. She leans to the right And then the left, In that pitiful night Laying sleepers bereft. All her metal and carriage Held a thousand souls Between their marriage Of her red hot coals. And the wooden doors weep The iron locks, hold their breath While she screeches on In her role of death.