The old tattered towel swung
On the laundry line in the sun
And the age battered man trotted
Upon his third leg to claim his calico
The wind loaned the old towel a wing
And upon getting there to claim his ware
It flew away
The old tired man rebuked the wind:
For all the years old and new
The wind hasn't enough time to blow
And has nothing to tow than my old towel!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wit and cleverity on display here...I enjoyed this, Tony...Good Stuff...~FjR~