I was ten years old when the tragedy happened, my mothers best friend lost her grandson Paul Silvio in the fire. I remember her sadness and tears, as we all cried for a young boy I did not even know. I wrote this poem about the fire when I was fifteen. I am posting it today.
It was December 1, 1958, when the tragedy began.
Down in the basement, by the chapel, in a cardboard trash can.
There was only one fire alarm, no sprinklers, to help put out the blaze.
I will remember this horrific fire, for the rest of my days.
A catholic elementary school in Chicago, with layers of wax on wooden floors.
Served as fuel for the hungry flames, there were no fireproof doors.
Smoke filled the school as the rooms turned black.
Heat and flames kept up their attack.
Ninty-two Little Angels, went up to God that day.
Some jumped out of windows, to try and get away.
I hear the mothers screaming, I see their river of tears.
Fireman carried bodies out,the worst of all their fears.
Its like a slow motiion movie now, when I replay it in my mind.
When the sky went black that day in 1958, and we left them all behind.