Those innocent times…

The twins, one would love to stare,
Sit beneath the rock over there.
With clay they play building their own world,
And innocence sprouts in their every word.
Showing her his hollow teeth,
Counting collected pebbles between his feet,
The brother sings with a disordered beat.
As she instructs a city is built,
Not well-built yet it lacks guilt,
Watching which wouldn’t the lonely rock melt?
Love their charming way of walk,
As they circulate around each tree’s bark,
About which always wouldn’t I love to talk?
I find my childhood right in front,
The innocent times that I have spent,
While to this scene my nerves are bent!


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