Where honeysuckle grows
On decrepit wire fence
Held aloft by decaying wooden posts
But still climbable by motivated boy,
A barrier between neighbors
That yet brings them together,
An elderly couple enjoys
The laughter of children on our side,
My sister and I, sun streaming
Through leaves of backyard elm,
Guessing at the treasure
Hidden in white blossoms,
Our neighbors tasting too
Uninhibited childhood antics.
Children buzzing from flower to flower,
Like bees in the warm summer air.
Brian Johnston
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely poem of vivid imagery. Summer adventures are unforgettable. Very nice, Brian