I see you riding on a wooden horse,
Painted bright blue with flying tail and mane,
That trots stifflegged on a sawdust course
Of circuses, balloons, an endless train
Of childish things. And now with rumpled hair,
Your clumsy hands, your boyish games to play,
Your world has still not held a thought of care:
Your wooden horse still gallops on its way.
Do you remember one time long ago
You took my doll to play with, but instead
You dropped it and you broke its china head?
Oh I am wiser now; I’ve learned to know
It isn’t love you’re asking to take;
You only want another toy to break.

INVIA LE CORREZIONI