It was rather beautiful day. br She asked me to hold her kite, while she br Went to get more string, br br And I stood as the sun carried me as high br As the lightweight toy of color, br Into the rays and their remarkable space. br br She returned with her string and her smile, br And I thought nothing could be better br The breeze and memory I was about to possess, br br Better than Proust in his closed off room br Or Emily struggling to recreate Amherst. br Sure, it could be art, or love in the city-owned grass.