Visitors Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
Visitors
The boy in the bed of his parents
a treat happened once in a year,
as he slept with the fragrance of mother
while his elders were drinking much beer.
As the party of four little aunties
came a-peeking to utter their Aahs
he pretended, he knew they were seeking
all the innocent beauty of Oz.
And he slept the great sleep of the just,
with the feeling of unending love,
he'd been taught that you do what you must
and you 'd never require a shove.
Angie's right, Herbert. I've clearly misconstrued your message here. I'll run with Angie's interpretation of this poem. Herbert, I am really sorry for offending you. I do not consider you 'sick' at all. Humbly, Gina.
And who is Gin? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? H
Herbert, I think Gin just misunderstood your intention of the poem.
What is it? Gin? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? H
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 4:54:32 AM # 1.0.0.1119
I think this is really sweet Herbert. This has such a comforting ''old world'' feel to it for me...not sure why exactly. A nice glimpse at childhood in regards to extended family. Very nice. Sincerely, Mary