Even as a boy
I would quiet and keenly play
with a simple lump of clay
whilst others kicked a ball
I would be drawing on a wall.

With saw and chisel
I did make
a steamboat
to float on the lake
as it slowly chuntered by
my dreams it carried
far and wide.

Even as a boy
I liked to play with bricks
or build a castle
made with sticks
or out of discarded wooden bits
make a home for pet rabbits.

Now I am a man
I work on bigger plans
to shape the home
or in the garden
arrange pagodas
with a pathway covered over
as I get a little older.

But as I have found
and as each year
it comes around
that simple boyish play
will live to see
another day.

David Taylor

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/as-each-year-comes-around/