Of Yo-Yos and Youth
Bright. It was bright... and so-so weather outside
when suddenly... guess what? Right. A boy with a yo-yo
came and sat down. Quick-as-you-would-please right beside me,
his yo-yo yo-yoing constantly. Up. Down.
What makes a yo-yo yo-yo I thought. Tension perhaps. Maybe
elasticity.
The boy looked at me. He had that "I-haven't-got-a-care" look I
once had,
back when I had a yo-yo, a blue yo-yo; it also went up. Down. Up.
Uh-oh. I'm daydreaming. Must. Focus.
Must. Focus. Must. Focus. But the yo-yo is drawing my
attention. So. Pretty. What happened to my yo-yo, my blue
yo-yo;
Probably lost. Lost. Like youth. Youth that goes bye-bye,
bye-bye,
and is gone. Gone. Gone. Like my blue yo-yo, my poor yo-yo,
my I'll-never-see-you-again toy.
Gone. Like the boy now. Goodbye-to-you my yo-yo
You can check your answer for this puzzle
here.