A Poem In Metz

A poem by Sam during our stay in Metz 💕

A church bell sounds from somewhere beyond,
Mist looms over this place,
Locals camped up in caravans,
It seems these are their homes.
Deckchairs neatly placed around a table,
Washing lines with now very damp clothes,
All of their possessions fit into these tiny homes,
Well on top and in front of too.
To the far side the tourists park,
They come and go with their fancy Campervans,
From Belgium, Austria and Holland it seems money grows on trees for them.
And in the row of fancy vans, sits a humble home.
Blue on the outside, warm on the inside.
A gentle face sitting amongst the others.
Little Betty Blue, my home, my transport, my life 🚐


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