There's a song about a man with a house in Budapest .
He sings about all the amazing things inside that house .
Just like him I have a home there too .
But my home hasn't four walls ,
My house in Budapest hasn't doors or windows .
My house in Budapest has a pulse ,
It has blood running through it .
Two big ears,
And a pair of green green eyes .
My house in Budapest is not a house it's a home .
It's a heart .
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Author:
Brendon Corey (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 27th, 2017 03:46
- Category: Love
- Views: 12
Offline)
Comments2
I will never forget the experience of beholding the splendor of the Blue Mosque! As an engineer and one who appreciates fine architecture, It was breath-taking. I share your love of that great city, Joaquin, and appreciate your fine poem!
deserves some sort of reward
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