Edelweiss3,
I love that poem you did 'bout sailing alone and hubby rescuing you. That was too cool!

Happily Flyin' A Kite

Out in the field,
He's flying a kite,
He knows what he's doin',
And doin' it right.
An aviation genius,
Is that kid brother of mine,
He angles the string,
Kite's flyin' just fine.

I watch as bro's kite,
Flies high in the breeze,
It's bouncin' like fluff,
Far above all the trees.

That kite looks like,
A windsock in mid-air.
Hours of childhood,
We spent right there,
Out in that field,
wild flowers and all,
No work 'n worries,
Or never on call.

Often my mind doth revisit those days,
I feel warm winds a blowin',
And see pastures of hay.
There's my kid brother, flyin' his kite,
In the windy brightness,
Of sunshine's sweet light.

And me, there I am, jealous of what flies,
Birds flappin' their wings,
And the dove's mournful cry.
It isn't fair, birds fly around,
And leave me standin',
Down here on the ground.