I never was good <br />At getting kites to fly. <br />I run until I am blue in the face, <br />Turn with anticipation and look upwards <br />To find the stupid thing <br />Laying on its back on the floor <br />Glaring at me <br />Daring me to try again <br />I swear it’s grinning at me <br />Smirking, even… <br /> <br />Despite a hurricane behind me <br />And a firm resolve, <br />I still can’t do it. It won’t let me. <br />It won’t cooperate. It just laughs. <br />I beat it with a branch, John Cleese style, <br />Nothing <br />I even stroke it and whisper words of love <br />Nothing. <br />It hates me <br /> <br />It hates me and I feel abandoned <br />I feel inadequate and inferior <br />I look with envy <br />At the six year old <br />Close by <br />Who’s flying her kite beautifully <br />Swooshing, spinning, turning somersaults <br />Diving and gliding <br /> <br />I’m gutted. <br />Devastated. <br />For my future peace of mind <br />I determine <br />Never to try flying kites again <br /> <br />The kite simply chuckles<br /><br />Bob Oldfield<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/kite-6/
