Long ago,
When I grew
Up at
The bank
Of The Nile,
I longed,
Every day,
To be old
To live in
A large,
Green palace,
With a magic
Rose garden
Of my own,
And to have
A fast,
White stallion,
To travel
Whenever
I liked
To Paris,
To Tokyo,
And to
Mexico City,
To cross
The world
Seven seas
In a ship
Made of gold,
And full
Of emeralds,
Of amber,
Of smiling,
Heavenly dreams,
To be free,
Like a bird,
Flying high,
In the sky,
Singing tender,
Sweet songs.
Yet, now,
As I
Sit back
In my garden
To count,
And recount
The loss,
And the gains
That I
Have had
In the journey
Of my life,
I long
To be young:
To regain
My laughter,
And smile,
That I left,
One day,
Long ago,
At the bank
Of the Nile,
And to look
At life
In wonder,
As I used
To do,
Day and night,
By the River,
With dozens
Of questions,
In my mind,
Though unanswered,
And waves
Of hopes,
Of wishes,
And affection,
In my heart
For you,
And for me,
For the land
Of the Pharaohs,
For my people,
And for
The River Nile.