A young boy, seven years old pale and thin
Smiles,
Reads,
and prays
In a bed, next to the living dead.
Every morning and every night
He knows there is and End, he wants to be prepared to fly.
well thats true nothing all ways be ready to die cause its true sooner we are all going to die not today but some day...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
why? well...you give the answer in your last line...good piece, Gladys...deep well framed...10