Often the boys so hardy, <br />try to forget the adulthood a while <br />Thus they go naughty, <br />and with games they take a trial <br />But I don't remember my bliss, <br />when it was twenty one or less <br />And for the little home I lay, <br />in Avenue fifty one, that I miss <br /> <br />Oh! c'mon by me O fellow, <br />let me sigh and think a while <br />About the old house so narrow, <br />that now lies many ways a mile <br />Pray that it exists now and then, <br />among all the oldy folks and men <br />But my prayers sound in vain now, <br />for the deserted Avenue fifty one <br /> <br />Mind me not, and bear with me, <br />the falling tears upon the cheek <br />How dear should a memory be, <br />if it doesn't make the heart a bleak? <br />Thus, ring a bell O my mate, <br />and for memories open a gate <br />Then let's sing a song of tears, <br />and for Avenue fifty one, I shall await<br /><br />Taher Shemaly<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/avenue-51/
