I was never as smug as I was back then.
Bad girl's that wore silk,
good young boy that I was, my best friends.
Racial slurs never heard, not once,
not in there.
Silver, problem solver, gold most would wear.
Ruby red lips, cat green eye's, wide straight hips.
Bushes next to trees freed that blushed,
in the back where I'd sleep through the day.
Night's broad black mouth,
purple panties one full moon always wore.
And day would it's yellow head spread through the room.
Deep sound in sleep, boyhood to man,
and I lounged and I laid and I grew in their bed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem