Winnie on a Swing
Her feet touch the chimney
Where a crow is roosting
Her pigtail on the backswing
Brushes the grass,
Flicks away an aphid
Tick tock, an hour of play till sleep
She laughs softly.
The swing slices the air.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful poem on play. Fantastic expression. Amusing one. Thanks for sharing....10