Ah, Paris!
Sitting under the maple trees In the gardens of the Tuileries,
A bird shat on my hand. And when I did not move,
Again on my jacket. In Paris, even the birds do not suffer fools gladly.
Hahah!
how sad.. 🙂
Enter your email address and receive poems, commentary by email.
Email Address
Subscribe
Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.
Type your email…
Continue reading
Hahah!
how sad.. 🙂