Bending branches of trees, hanging into a memory of
childhood, reminders of all the good and wonderful
times had when climbing them everyday, feeling
protected and loved by their enduring presence in
life.
So natural to reach up and touch them gently with
love in younger days, never dreaming that one day I
would be too feeble to climb them as always done
when just a child.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem