Hi all,
It’s been a while since I’ve blogged so I apologize for the delay. To make up for it, I decided to do something big. Here’s a poem about my time in Vietnam.
Good morning Vietnam,
And who’s at the door?
It’s a pack of kids
And it’s only 6:04.
I step out of the shower
Hearing rooster and hen.
Looking across the hall
I view the pigs’ pen.
We walk to work
Which is rice fields galor.
Walking up and down mountains,
Getting there becomes a chore.
From a swipe of my scythe,
Bleeding my flesh is torn.
At times like these,
I wish I was a farmer of corn.
After hours in the field,
My skin searing red,
I look forward to dinner
And the comforts of bed.
After two servings of buffalo
And bamboo on a plate,
I finally pass out
At the hour of 8.
God Bless and Go Blue,
Chance
