A dream flew like a paper kite
above the clouds of this short night.
It was of you I dreamt, but gone
the kite is. I could not hold on.
Nights are too short to dream alright,
or think of what could be or might,
but if you find my kite by chance,
it means there may be some romance.
I tried to do an image and poem in one, I find it difficult to get the right text size, but I shall keep trying 🙂