Like a child growing into an adult?
This old tattered soul eagerly seeks
the boisterous childhood,
Playmates and unpopular grounds?
(And our powerful strokes not included
in the World record book and we're not recognized.)
Remember that soft ball when somebody throws
I hit with my cheaper bat not willow wood.
The ball goes into the forest like a jet
and it's really interested searching the ball
whole day there with mosquito bites
and we bring home the nettles?
If someone knows the real value of childhood
Who never dreams of adulthood
That full of cruelty and hardships?
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Comments about this poem (Like a child growing into an adult? by nimal dunuhinga )
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