Memory

It's hard to think of a memory,

a mark of yesterday,

when I'm trying to live my life

in the present, day by day...

It's just like flying that kite:

it would soar, hit the sky

make me laugh, not quite

and then, I drop it! Why?

It was an accomplishment to fly

that paper in the air,

such a flair!

A girl, a wish, a sigh...

The kite was taken by

the time, by the weather

what's left in that sky

is no longer my tether.

© Rosangela C. Taylor / 04-09-09