On bringing two little girls with astronomical expectations to fly a budget kite.
Our budget kite was never right,
It felt rigid, like cold ceramic.
And well I knew, that my old shoe
Was much more aerodynamic.
It failed to fly. Didn’t really try.
One twist, two flips and a flutter.
It flopped then stopped, hopped then dropped
Down into a mucky gutter.
I expected tears but flute the fears,
We reloaded and launched the toy.
It tore to shreds, they grabbed ribbons, threads,
And wrapped themselves in joy.
They laughed and ran, arms full wingspan,
I stood, transfixed, spellbound.
That my little mites, were as high as kites
Without ever leaving ground.
By Dermy McNally
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