Underneath a willow tree,
Beside this opening lock,
Weeping away the Autumn sunshine,
As the narrowboats rise and fall,
And the gushing at the gates
Casts me back to happier days on the water,
Of the skipping of small feet across the decks
To pick blackberries from the wild bankside,
Then the slipping as I fell beyond the brink
Like a stone;
And the ringing sound of joyous laughter,
Rising and expanding in concentric circles,
Washes over me,
Bubbling up from the past,
And rippling away.
While the wise old willow smiles gently to himself.
(CBB Sept 2011)
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Enjoyable. Enjoyable. Enjoyable. (Try'Weeping Willow' when you have time)