When I was seven
I loved looking at the big
mirrow upstairs and wished I could
fly up to the moon
I believed there were
fairies up there
Just like mum's stories of
the moon.
How I wished I could be with
the fairy or visit her in heaven
Fairies like those in
mum's story
Are so real when I was
only seven
When I was looking at
that mirrow
I often sang aloud or
smiled at that person facing me
And I was so proud
Oftentimes I would dance gracefully
and singing happily to myself
The big mirrow upstairs was
such a good friend
I earnestly craved for its
attention
I was happy
I thought I looked
grand just gazing at my
own reflection
Oftentimes I made
monkey faces at the big mirrow upstairs
Sure enough I looked funny
But I didn't care for nobody was there
Only me and the big
mirrow upstairs.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem