Reappearing the white dots on my fingernail
I’m growing a child again I yell
She smiles having by now known it well
It’s where I dwell.
Her mocking smile is an annoyance
Still louder I yell
White dots come on a child’s finger and toenail.
My lady ever practical says how do I gain
If ever you really become a child again
It would be a tall demand and I’m afraid
The first thing you would ask for is to be breastfed!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very compelling write which held my interest throughout. I enjoyed the easy flow of the material. Excellent work.