Pink lines are for jumping
And ledges must be balanced on.
And it’s always fun to hear
“Come on Grandpa! Come on”
Whether two blocks or two miles
It always starts out fun
And somewhere within the first block
We will have to run.
She will want on my shoulders,
She calls it “top of Head”
Then she will want down again
So she can walk instead.
A stick will have to be picked up
And probably a stone,
Somehow there are much more wonders
Than when I walk alone.
I love to see her look around
And touch the things we see.
I like to see her use her mind
And grow her curiosity.
I’m fifty now and getting old
Tiring way before I should
But whenever we go for a walk
I am always feeling good.
When she is older, we’ll hit the trails
And climb up a bluff or two
But for now, we’re close to home
And that will have to do.
But these walks please me so
They’ve’ become a weekly prize.
I am so lucky to once again
See the world through new eyes.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem