The day the child in me decides to leave
Is not a day my mind can quite conceive
My bones might creak, and thoughts of mine provoke
But the child in me things ageing is a joke
The day I cannot laugh at the insane
and when amusement starts to be mundane
Those moments will tell me the child has gone
And there's only ageing me to carry on
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem