One, Two, Three, Four
roses, daisies, flowers galore;
a dream I once had when I was seven,
dancing and prancing in
broad daylight,
in the wide open fields of North Carolina;
filled with grace and joy,
I probably ran three feet a second,
when my mother beckoned me to come to her;
there we were,
mother and daughter,
filling the air with so much
laughter and delight,
with the sun shining down upon
our tear-streaked faces,
and our reckless horseplay;
I wanted nothing more
than to stay there forever
with my beloved mother,
my one and only
best friend,
in my Beautiul Dream...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem