In your granddad's bookcase
was a book you liked
with a blue hardback cover
with German warplane
pictures in it
and you loved to study
the photographs
even though
the words
were too big
or long
for you to read
and on that Sunday
you sat
while the parents talked
and studied
the bookcase
hoping your granddad
would get it out for you
if he saw you
looking that way
long enough
but the parents talked
and the grandparents
listened or talked too
and the book stayed put
in the bookcase
and you stared
and counted the books
on either side
taking in
the various colours
and sizes
on the shelves above
and below
and how neat
they were placed
and tidy
and well polished
it all was
but the book
kind of attracted you
with its German warplanes
with the Swastikas
on the wings and sides
and some pictures
had Spitfires
and Lancaster bombers
with red white and blue
on the sides and wings
but that Sunday
Granddad didn't
get out the book
and hand it to you.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem