Flying High

 

                   Flying High

   I cannot write a merry poem this year

Too much has happened lately in my life--

Uprooted from a home that I held dear

And now a widow, who was once a wife 

   Change is not my forte, and options few--

A clock cannot run backwards, nor can I,

Thus I must gird myself and start anew

To see how high my aging kite can fly

   Too late, they say--your day is almost done.

Pull down your kite and rest yourself a while-- 

Go take a break from shining in the sun--

Enjoy yourself before your final mile,  

   And as they lecture,  I slip quietly by

   And launch my kite into the waiting sky