Twice each week
she would come in out of the sun.
To let me wash and massage her feet.
Some where in France,
there's a town where people are born.
With six fingers on each hand.
Elizabeth has only one toe on each foot.
Long this toe is fat like a sausage,
Twice each week she would come.
Pointing it out she would watch me.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem