When I was four
Swinging from the willow tree
Feet high, dizzy, afloat
The memory of a fishing boat
Fish below, swimming free
Of paper clips on the front gate
Left by the postman.
The man I called my mate
Of rain on the roof
And feeling warm and safe
When I was four
Beautiful nostalgic experience nicely brought forth from the heart with conviction. Thanks for sharing.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Such an innocent start, Philip Byworth. You may like to read my poem, Love And Iust. Thank you.