Poem Hunter
IK ( / Sutton Coldfield, West Midlands, UK)


As we sit beside the fire,
Warm slippers on our feet.
Do we ever stop to think
Of those who seldom eat?

We sit at our tables
Getting stuck into our meals.
But do we ever stop to think
How an empty stomach feels?

When we're tucked up in our beds,
Or in our armchairs curled.
Let us offer up our thanks
That we're not of the Third World.

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