When I was a little boy
An empty can was my favourite toy
I would tie it on a homemade rope
And drag it along the cobble stone road
One morning as I woke up
I found my can was stolen
I told my father to hurry up
As I heard my can rolling
Now that I am seventy years old
And I write this on my iPad
I am thinking
Who was that little boy
This can’t be the same world
From the collection's own note: the images with these poems are AI-created artistic renderings by the source, not historical photographs.