A retired man returned to his childhood home
To try to recapture his youthful gleam.
He walked down an unpaved roadway
And crossed a bridge over a narrow stream.
He stood beneath a sturdy oak tree
Where he use to sit to meditate and dream.
The rambling vegetation dominated the scene
And clung to the scrawny, old withering pines.
The foundation of the dilapidated house
Was lost in a tangle of weeds and vines.
Once an attractive and formidable dwelling,
Now neglected - unable to cope the fury of time.
He stopped and leaned on the rickety gate
As the brilliant sun was setting in the west.
His thoughts went back to the days of yore,
Remembering his deceased parents the best.
Facing reality and shedding tears,
He finally opted to forget the rest.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It's all part of the Circle of Life....Very nicely done, Joseph...Family memories, of the good times past are important, and usually enjoyable when shared together, with other family members, or close friends.However, those same memories can be lamenting when alone, and in a decorum such as you so keenly express in your poem, here...Solid Work. FjR