As children, we explored the stream…
Near the end of the road…
The length of it was quite extreme…
And so it flowed and flowed…
And sticklebacks were clearly seen
Above the stony floor…
Away from dangling slime so green
That gathered either shore…
The stream was just a few feet wide,
So we could see a lot...
The sticklebacks tried hard to hide,
When temperatures grew hot…
My brother pushed me in one day…
He got smacked by our Dad…
Despite that fact, I've got to say…
He wasn't all that bad!
Denis Martindale January 2019.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem