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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=400249" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>When we were small children</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When we were small children<br>about five and four<br>my dad had died <br>of cancer<br>and I and my brother<br>had to stay during the day<br>with the Von Hörsten’s<br>when my mother drove away to work.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Uncle Hendrik was a farmer, <br>but also with his brother Fritz<br>wrote story books<br>and his string of children<br>who was much older<br>and bigger than us<br>(four boys and two girls) <br>kept us busy<br>since boys had to stay out of the house.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So it went that we<br>rode horses unsaddled, <br>tread on silage<br>and the second oldest Gardiël<br>was always on our case, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">had put us on donkeys<br>and the lot of them laughed<br>while the animals run moody<br>into rocks<br>and my brother fell <br>and got some bruises and cuts.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">One day the cornfield <br>was cut stubble high<br>to get feed for the cattle<br>and the breeding bull Kittennel <br>(a black and malicious animal) <br>were chased into the crush-pen<br>and Gardiël forced us on that bull<br>before he chased it<br>with a horse <br>into the cornfield.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the other side of the field<br>beyond the border wire<br>his brothers waved a red flag<br>up and down and up and down<br>and Kittennel snored though his nose, <br>in anger shook his body, <br>kicked up dust<br>before he got direction<br>capering<br>and storming with full force<br>at the red flag.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The stubbles flashed<br>past his feet<br>and looked like spears<br>standing upright<br>and we were afraid <br>of being pierced<br>and we rode Kittennel<br>and no bull<br>could throw us down that day.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">[Reference: The word uncle used here out of respect and local custom and not to point out family relationship.]</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Gert+Strydom">Gert Strydom</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=400249" data-title="When we were small children de Gert Strydom" data-description="When we were small children
about five and four
my dad had died 
of cancer
and I and my brother
had to stay during the day
with the Von Hörsten’s
when my mother drove away to work.

Uncle Hendrik was a farmer, 
but also with his brother Fritz
w..."></div>
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