When I'm old I'll need a porch for sipping my coffee,
for leaving the cake in springtime breeze
to get cold.
I'll have my cozy sofa and a couple of cushins,
so that my eyes would rest on that childhood dream
and feel bold.
I'll need a black wild dog remembering strength,
I could call him Jersey...or try
any other name,
I'll rejoin my family, bit by bit I could call them for suppers,
then buy fries from McDonald's
or cook them a feast.
When I'm old I'll have my own special freedom,
I'll travel through China and see the Great Wall
then think about Egipt on my way home.
I'll hold the hand of someone I love,
I'll feel how love can never grow cold,
loving the loved one,
loving a friend,
or a nephew.
Before I die I'll ask for some leather pants and a suitable jacket
I'll tell them I'm high and they should leave me alone,
for once more,I'd love to crave for the freedom,
same freedom I had as a 17 year-old.
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When you read it in class, I heard it through a haze. I don't mock life-lasting things. Lovely poem now that I see it better. Florina the Tweed.
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