Belgium Poem by Wes Thompson
Belgium
cold hands on a warm autumn night
only I have to know
when to shake or to slight
I must go out of my way
not to watch what I say
whether it's wrong or it's right
I could never tell you the price
with my chest painted red
for a shoe full of rice
when I'm begging from mice
in the end
god prays we turn out better than him
like a good parent should
we only want what we could
but couldn't have had
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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5/17/2024 3:33:37 AM # 1.0.0.1119
