flying kites

do you still believe in love,
she asks
me
as I look upwards into
a vibrant
blue sky.
we run along
the march grass as
the wind takes our kite,
bright as a gold finch,
high into the clouds.
of course I do, I tell
her,
pulling on the long
string
to keep it near.
it's not the emotion of
love
that's a problem,
it's who you fall in
love with.