The sign read
Please don’t fly kites near the skylarks.
They were our stringless entertainment for the day.
I hope I’m remembered as a groundlark,
someone who gave it a good go,
played when he could,
looped and dipped when he was bored.
I’m probably more of an urban slug;
slow off the mark,
vulnerable to being walked all over,
a trail of sparkling tears behind me.

© Carl Burkitt 2020

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