When I Was A Kid
I still remember that cradle of wood,
which was not perfect but ya it was good.
The memories of hymns my mother used to sing,
And I used to fly in the fairy land gliding my wings.
Running on knees on the vast ground,
and supposing that earth if flat and not so round.
The love the care I got from my 'PA',
was as magical as the story of 'GLA'.
No T.V. no radio no confusions of ice cream flavors,
The thing that mattered was only the sand with different layers.
But now no sand, no hymns, no freedom to glide,
Only hard work and struggle and this beautiful world that is completely blind.
I wish I could live those days again,
I still search for my desires to come true in every wet dropp of the rain.