Once
upon a night
I lost my son. Before
he could see the light and fly
his blue yellow kite,
a missile took him
and
his mom.

Once
upon a grave
I buried my dream
of crafting kites with my wife
and flying them along the beach
with my little son who will never
grow old and will never
blow out his first candle
or celebrate his wedding
or fly kites
with
his son.

Today
upon a hope
I still craft kites of vibrant
colors with long tails
that
dance
in the air.

I gift them to children
who
chase
their
strings
and compete.

But
I save the distinguished
blue yellow one
for my grandson
who
will
never
come.