There’s a little red wagon,
Wandering through my dream.
The handle gives me splinters,
But the wheels all brightly gleam.
The shinning wheels are turning,
As we saunter down the street.
Going to the future,
And some yet distant treat.
The simple life I led,
When I was but a child.
Still lets me wander there,
And lets me still run wild.
The morning’s now reality,
The mists once more depart.
Perhaps tonight I’ll visit there,
I know the place by heart.
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Such a delightful, simple slice of childhood. Thank you. xx
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I am glad you liked it.
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Sweet🤩
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Thanks
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Ahhhhh, sweet childhood. Always a wonderful place to visit, as often as possible.
🐾Ginger 🐾
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I think so. Just not too much.
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Beautifully said dear lady, may your wagon ever keep you on its journey (but no chucking donuts in it though) 😂 🤣
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haha. Promise – no donuts! Chocolate ok?
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Ooh yeah! They’re survival rations in case you get lost in your little red wagon 😂 🤣
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What a perfect little red wagon! 🙂
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Thanks.
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Very cool indeed.
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Thanks
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Great, Pam
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Thanks John
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Such a beautiful poem! I’ve missed reading your posts during some busy times. Hope all is well! I love wagons too. 🤗
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I am glad you enjoyed it.
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I really like this. (And, true confession: I’m not much for poetry.)
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I am glad you enjoyed it. Poetry is just prose with a beat.
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Some poetry is prose with a beat. Some of it is just words strung together in novel shapes with little to no punctuation. 🤨
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That is what is so wonderful about words. They are something wonderful to play with.
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