Runcible Spoon

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Yes, I live


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.