once a crystal clear pond
by rows of trees; an old farm
now gatorade blue, hawaiaan
could be run-off from fairway
close by, over brown grassy hill
where errant balls hide-away
brave ducks still swim and play
cuddle together on winter day
i miss fishes flaunt their fins
maybe they move to other places
i hope they didn't sink; perish
i be here again come saturdays
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem