I remember smell of honeysuckle in the soft morning breeze.
The shimmering sun dancing on the lake and piercing the trees.
So varied are the colors the Autumn leaves will make the eye strain.
From beauty not contained, peaceful the sound of softly falling rain
My home in the meadow just up the dale where my heart soared.
Happier times never can be found, coaxed or more adored.
The days of my youth have caressed my soul and remained alive.
Sending snapshots of fonder times to my mind, lucid they thrive.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem