The European socialist experiment is about to end, and end badly, as predicted by many. Capitalism, nationalism, and wealth, or socialism, poverty and death. Those are the options. After WW2 Europe had a choice. Which road to take, the road to life or the road to Brussels.

 

 

The crossroads beckoned up ahead

The weary traveler stopped

And looked about in fear and dread

Which path should he adopt?

One road led on to Brussels Fair

Bright roses lined the way

The other led to who knows where

What price be there to pay?

He chose the road where roses in

Profusion did proclaim

Bad weather never closes in

And one wins every game

And so it was for many miles

Bright skies and weather fair

While in the distance Brussels smiles

And becks the traveler there

A gleaming city on a hill

Aglow with golden light

He bade his racing heart be still

And walked on through the night

Oh at first ‘twas as desired

On the carousel, content

Even unemployed were hired

And the city paid the rent

But the wine soon left the fountains

Some folks worked while others played

And the debt grew high as mountains

And the city grew afraid

As the leaders wept and dithered

While great fissures were laid bare

And the roses died and withered

On the road to Brussels Fair

 

 See my novels and collected verse at Amazon, paperback and 99 cent Kindle HERE