In the woods, where the Blueberries grow,
is where we often like to go.
Eating along the path,
as we merrily laugh,
where seeds so many years did sow.
Along the path is a Cedar tree,
standing tall, for all to see.
How we often grace,
this beautiful place,
just little Ray and me!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem