Even as a boy <br />I would quiet and keenly play <br />with a simple lump of clay <br />whilst others kicked a ball <br />I would be drawing on a wall. <br /> <br />With saw and chisel <br />I did make <br />a steamboat <br />to float on the lake <br />as it slowly chuntered by <br />my dreams it carried <br />far and wide. <br /> <br />Even as a boy <br />I liked to play with bricks <br />or build a castle <br />made with sticks <br />or out of discarded wooden bits <br />make a home for pet rabbits. <br /> <br />Now I am a man <br />I work on bigger plans <br />to shape the home <br />or in the garden <br />arrange pagodas <br />with a pathway covered over <br />as I get a little older. <br /> <br />But as I have found <br />and as each year <br />it comes around <br />that simple boyish play <br />will live to see <br />another day.<br /><br />David Taylor<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/as-each-year-comes-around/
