Father of a boy and girl
busy in the playground
down in the town park,
launching them high up
on the swings for a fling;
then on a suspended tyre,
a seat for his little queen -
on her own chairoplane;
allows lad and lass ad lib
move on to further thrills
over on a merry-go-round
which he sends spinning
with one flick of his wrist -
children in orbit under him
in practice runs for later on
when the time for take off,
for following their dreams,
intervenes between them -
as they go on wider orbits.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
i need a short one thats good but to long