Do you remember the first time your paper kite
rose in the air, spiraled, went down once, then up?
I remember
how I watched and cheered from my terrace while you
strove to hold your spool and fly it from yours.
I remember
how your mother came running when we shouted with glee.
I remember the proud gleam, her eyes.
I remember
many more things; days, faces, neighbours.
That time is gone, long gone are you, and they.
I pass
through my days and nights mostly in a world
where you, and they don’t belong. Yet
I think
(when I have time to think) of those times for time
is a place where I go and live once more the past.
Yes, I live.