The universal joy
Of a gentle wind
A small kite
And a length of string
In a child’s hand
Both the child’s
And my own
The universal joy
Of a gentle wind
A small kite
And a length of string
In a child’s hand
Both the child’s
And my own
Oh
To be that boy
Again
A little play
In every step
And every thought
I recall the halcyon
Of inviolable youth
When life
Stretched out before us
As an infinite loop of fun
While pain and suffering
Seemed ephemeral
As an all-better kiss
And adulthood perceived
As a condition of denial
That play is anything but
A full-time endeavour
Long since has that glitter faded
Pain and suffering
Joined now as companions
But little desire has this adult
To deny a child
The pleasure of play
Rather play along
Perhaps to live again
The golden lie
Of youth
No matter the venue
Play always looks like play
But the rain
Didn’t come
Just as well
She thought
Letting the surf
Wash high up
Her pretty
Yellow
Boots
For the dog
For the man
For the unseen eye
Guiding the lens
To capture
The perfect
Moment
With utter abandon
She runs
Gangly limbs
All astrewn
Head rolled back
Now lolling
Side to side
She runs
Only for the joy
It seems
Of running
Down Bengali Tola
And as my camera
Finally finds her
She finds me
So too does Nature
Carve and weather
Heave and crumble
Building castles
Made of stone