When I sit and think of my childhood,
I think of my parents that I would.
Of all the both bad and good times,
And of all the nursery rhymes.
I wonder how they put up with me,
I wasn't very good yet they let me be.
I want to tell them thank you,
And I love you, it doesn't seem to do.
How do you tell them they are the greatest,
I make up by telling them the latest.
The time I spent with them isn't enough,
I try and act like I'm very tough.
The truth is I miss my mother and father,
Any my childhood is getting away farther.
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Comments about this poem (Childhood by Joan Neph )
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