These days it is the little things
Which fill my mind's imaginings
The rising sun that lights my room
Absorbing all of night's dark gloom
A given hand full of grace
The smile upon my mother's face
Children at play along the street
Pattering paws at my feet
A laughing wind on a country walk
The fireside and the toasting fork
Too numerous to mention, little things,
That fill my mind's imagining.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem