Eve Simons was born on November 16, 1939, in Amsterdam; the picture above is of the announcement of her birth in a local newspaper by her parents. Less than three years later, Eve was murdered in Auschwitz.
For Eve and the light that could not stay
In Amsterdam, on a chilly morn,
A fragile star, young Eve, was born.
November skies held clouds at bay,
As joy arrived that autumn day.
With eyes that danced like morning dew,
A world of wonder, bright and new.
Her laughter, soft, a sparrow’s song,
A fleeting note in a life too long.
In her small hands, the dreams of spring,
In her small steps, the hope she’d bring.
But shadows deep began to spread,
A darkness vast, a path of dread.
The world grew cruel, the years turned gray,
As innocence was torn away.
Eve’s tiny hands, her trusting gaze,
Could not withstand the raging blaze.
From Amsterdam to Auschwitz bound,
A name among too many found.
A spark extinguished, a life denied,
In silent rooms where angels cried.
Yet even as the embers fade,
Her memory, a light, is made.
Through stories told, through hearts that weep,
She lives, where love and justice keep.
For Eve Simons, a voice remains,
A call to end all hate’s dark chains.
In every child, her spirit glows,
A flower blooming where courage grows.
Source
History of Sorts 
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