Harking Back to the Age of Reason (1)

Daddy Don’t Go

 

Never been to the park

with me Dad before.

But we’re goin’ now.

He’s made me a kite!

It’s a funny thing,

made outta brown paper and sticks

We’re in the park now

and Dad’s got the kite thing.

It’s got a long string.

‘Okay mate, you hold the kite. Got it?’

Wow! I never knew he’d let me

hold it.

Reckon he loves me lots.

‘Okay Dad’. It feels real good

hanging onto this kite thing.

Dad says he’ll walk away a bit,

and then we both have

to run to make the kite go

up in the sky.

He’s far away now;

I can hardly see him;

and he’s takin’ ages...

‘Okay boy, you start running now’

Why do I have to run?

 I think Dad told me

but I can’t remember.

Well, he’s me Dad,

so I’ll do what he says.

But I hate running:

I feel stupid.

Dad’s running too.

Very fast.

So am I, but...

‘Let it go!’ He’s yelling now.

What? I don’t get it.

‘Let it go!’

So I let it go, but it just falls

and I’m tripping on it, and

now I’ve broken Daddy’s kite.

All the paper’s ripped

and the sticks are all busted.

I’m so stupid.

I think Dad’s mad with me.

He’s walking away real fast.

I hate this kite thing.

‘Daddy!’

I’m yelling and crying and running

‘Daddy, don’t go!’