On a Rainy Day

Her smile was sunlight on a rainy day. I couldn’t tell you her name, her face, nor her eyes. Even as they starved us, as they took away our homes, I never forgot her smile. Even when I became old and wrinkled, and my Auschwitz tattoo stretched beyond anything recognizable, she was still on my mind. I still remembered that girl on that train with the lilac sprig in her hair with a smile like sunlight on a rainy day.