Marco gives out pokes of chips to hungry weans and asks how's your maw getting on? Ice cream cones with raspberry and a flake such moments of delicious delight. He sings of Sorrento his eyes well with tears. He tells me of the sun that always shines and the sea of his childhood past.
Michael Cochrane ©
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem