I saw a father
Carrying his son
On his shoulders
Up a ramp
To see a ball game
I remember the times
I have carried you
up hills and steep ways.
At the time I resented
The extra weight
But now I long
For the press
Of your thighs
On my shoulder
Your tiny hands
On my brow.
Now I know
What a rare privilege
It was to carry you,
What a blessing
Your weight was
On my shoulders
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem