Kites in January

There is something
about blue doors
and green, moss walls

monochrome pictures
in long corridors

a drawer full of letters,
of castles in pencil sketches
for when the memory fades
but the love fetches

dust laden, moth-bitten
Uncles and Krackers

the Daisy smell
on rolled sleeves
of floral shirts long forgotten

What were those cosmic jokes
of five-pointed stars on erasers
similar signatures
the many coincidences

Did we love then?
Do we love now?

So long
Till we meet again
in another time
another fray