When I was a little boy I would treasure,
A cardboard box, in which to play,
The simplest of things provided such pleasure,
And would keep me happy all day.
It was a fighter aeroplane, it was a racing car,
Swooping from the sky, flashing around the track,
Then a mighty submarine to hunt for ships afar,
Or a huge and powerful tank, yes nothing did I lack.
Who needs those shiny plastic toys,
That leave nothing to the imagination,
I think the happiest little boys,
Are those who look for stimulation,
In the inner workings of the mind,
Where anything at all can come to be,
And wherein he can always find,
Whatever he wants, and all for free!
Tom Higgins
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem