MORE OF GOLD.
Those days when I fly kite
and rolled tyres with friend-like.
Those days when i built birds'
nest, with my feet build'ng nests.
Those days when I rattle
and chirp brooks-like twaddles,
I'd wish'd to play the moon
but she caught me so soon.
Those days when i bed wet,
my mat and cloth;my bed.
I'd oft' fake tears of smiles,
I mock her with tears' smiles.
She's precious more than Golden Gold
her lips are of birds' sing'ng lips
lullabies,- she'll oft' sing for me-
I have a treasure more of Gold!
"words from the innocent mind"