The pitter patter of baby feet,
Whispered through my room.
I ran after the baby,
But I could not reach.
This baby smiled,
A tender smile.
I smiled back you see.
This moment was a mixture and glee.
This pitter pattering sound,
Was the softest I could hear.
It's innocence I would remember,
From year to year.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem