by Mervyn Taylor
When the light stays close
to the earth, when you can
touch it, like paper, make
a kite and fly it over houses
and cemeteries and grass
on the green savannah,
when it lasts
long enough to let your
sadness sail like a ship
with four masts and
doubtful cargo, your
dreams below deck,
the waterline taking its
measure from your tears,
the twilight will allow
this hour for your moping,
then it’s back to rehearsal,
landlocked beings
that we are: kite flyers,
dancers on the shore,
praying the hour be long.
Poem copyright 2023 by Mervyn Taylor. All rights reserved.
See two more poems from Mervyn Taylor debuted on The Fight & The Fiddle: “The Blind Storyteller” and “The Pause”
Read more in this issue: Interview | Critical Essay | Writing Prompt