all boys and trees grow old and die
but certain things remain the same
the woods I wandered as a child
where haunted places laid a claim
I hold them like a photograph
each path I charted in my youth
that seemed as precious as desire
with hidden and enduring truth
the creek flowed south until it turned
to ever seek the dying west
I told it though it could not hear
it patiently had done its best
for often I did find a prize
a tree now petrified to stone
that taught me how a dying thing
in time will find its final home
another child explores those woods
and on the breeze there is a ghost
he cannot see me watching him
or know my observation post
still I have never left that place
so he may sense a presence there
and just like me he might yet find
a treasure far beyond compare
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Marvellous expression with amusing collocation. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you for reading and commenting. And thank you for the praise.