Try as I may, I just can’t.
Do you remember?
I remember my brother how you loved those things,
paper kites: sometimes a crescent moon on a blue sky,
or the tricolor of our nation, or the two striped ones,
sometimes, just plain one colour, streaking through the sky.
Then I had brought home that bamboo pole, two storeys
Do you remember how I’d catch kites for you to fly them?
And I remember how happy it’d make you,
although you and I,
neither could ever master the art of flying kites well.
I remember much more, and still more, when I look back
at those years when you and I
were brothers that lived under the same roof.