Lost Kite
How often have I cried
To hold that orange and green colored kite
In my tiny hands
And let it shore higher up in the air
Gently gliding, furiously spinning
Zig-zag, zig-zag, further away from me
Becoming smaller and smaller
Till the thread could hold no more.
Hour 17
Lovely imagery in this. It’s easy to see the kid’s heart lift while flying the kite and then get lost losing it. Builds a fragile and tenuous connection between us and our joys.
“Till the thread could hold no more”
Bittersweet. Well done.
Thank You. Lovely interpretation. Your words are so encouraging.