In the middle of the stream,
a fine and sturdy craft,
a hull of solid wood,
and a wooden rudder aft.
With sail to catch the wind,
by child brought to be,
and sent with love and best wishes,
to forge on towards the sea.
Through forests, farms, and fields,
still afloat where others sank,
and plucked from fame and fortune,
by a girl upon the bank.
Held and studied carefully,
then placed again to drift,
for days and maybe weeks now,
as the seasons did their shifting.
She may want again to hold it,
but, there is a hitch,
that little boat is gone now,
with the water 'neath the bridge!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Foolish girl...she should never have set something so precious adrift...again... Hugs, Dee