Saw it in the window a plastic thing

Saw it in the window, a plastic thing

—a rocket, bright, primary red.

And felt that old, familiar sting,

the ghost of words I should have said.

'I'll buy it for you, promise, soon,'

to tiny hands, held out to take.

Under a too-bright afternoon,

a vow I didn't care to break.

But life got in the way, or so I claim,

the memory, now just a faded spot.

And her wide eyes, calling out my name,

for something I so easily forgot.

That rocket never flew, it stayed unbought.

Just a silent, childhood lesson taught.