This sweet bunch of sweetness
is like Grannie used to be
all enjoyment, full of charm
cream buns and afternoon tea.
And statuesque ladies
strolling in the park
with their parasols twirling
to the sound of a lark.
Their iridescent bonnets
with pretty flowing bows
gently sprinkled with confetti
from the hawthorn rows.
The are a sight of joy
one that spurs you on
to saunter in the garden
and bask in their salon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem