The Willows By The Brook
M
Mihaela Pirjol
0
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Near the willows by the brook:
There is where as a child I used to play
With children from my neighbourhood,
When everything was magic, and so gay:
Those are the days I miss the most:
As sweet as grandma's jam on toast!
When I envision that little brook
That flowed in front of our house,
I can almost feel the water with a look…
A fairy tale was grandma's house!
If only I could turn just for one day,
To live that magic once again…
On vast pastures fresh and green,
With sheep and lambs, me and my sister,
Sometimes in summer finding thrill
In chasing lizards with wood-sticks;
Or wearing Mother's dresses, ruffled hair,
High heels and lipstick: to tell, we could not dare!
Upon honeysuckle for hours we could lie,
Eating wild-berries, rosehips, or cherries,
Giggling and laughing, staring at the sky,
When young we were at heart and merry…
Oh! These precious little moments never last:
The house seems smaller now, and all is past.
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