Spring has sprung, the ground is wet
It is time to go fly a kite.
She and I, on kites always have a bet,
Hers will fly and she says mine might.
So balsa wood and tissue paper, I do find
Super glue and lots of patience are for what I pray.
I start to cut, stretch, and she to me is so kind,
For her kite from the dollar store comes, and she asks if she may.
An old silk jersey does become the tail,
And two large balls of string from the garage I do bring.
With our coats on, and our Wellies a-wearing, we set sail.
She opts for the smaller ball of string.
My kite does quickly rise and upward soar,
As hers seems to hesitate - hoping for a gust.
Up, up, up high it does climb, as the wind does roar
Strength of stays I did not consider a must.
Hers does lift and rise, as mine is nearly out of sight.
Then as hers goes higher, a gust does make a shock.
My kite does collapse from the gust’s might.
As her’s still slowly rises, seemingly going tick-tock.
So as the cord I do slowly reel,
She does smile and dance about,
Hoping the church bells over her kite will peal,
As I roll up my cord, feeling like a lout.
Such are the winds of a March day,
As to Lowe’s I do slowly walk,
Buying good strong spars I do say,
As she rubs it in and continues to talk.
© By Tom (tomWYO@aol.com)