Somewhere ages back in time,
we small boys ran
in khaki, soldier fields
and longbow, outlaw woods,
sailed on tin bath, pirate streams,
in our invented play.
Recently, I heard
our once gang leader
had passed away.
I attended his funeral,
although we had not met for years.
His grandson approached me and asked
about his Grandfather as a boy.
I had no reservations about saying
the honest, spot on truth.
He was a great soldier
an even better outlaw
and the best captain…
I ever sailed under.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Childhood captain and sailors are interesting to read though a homage to your past friend!