Last Seen Heading West
Noel Laflin
9-14-16
Thick bamboo framed our kite,
A bedspread
covered all,
It stood six
feet from tip to top,
Criminee! It
was tall.
No fragile
string would hold this beast,
So fishing
line was sought,
‘It ought to
hold,’ we said aloud,
And kept our
fingers crossed.
Then four
young boys from Flower Street,
Did launch
their falcon off,
And so it
soared to rapid heights,
On hidden
winds aloft.
We laughed
with glee at neighbors who,
Had scoffed
at our attempt,
But
neighbors had the final say,
As line
first broke – then went …
Of last we
saw, this kite of ours,
It sallied
forth due west,
Freed from
the grip of those four boys,
Who’d lost
their youthful quest.
