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The Kite

Am I the only one to think that a kite is such a sad thing? Flimsy...frail... never really free, forever tied to a string Yes, it can soar indeed, so high, with the wind taking it places, almost making it forget, just enjoying the wind rushing through, lighthearted The wind drops, then it gets snared among tree branches maybe, or perhaps stuck on a roof or elsewhere with its string all tangled and knotted, almost impossible to untangle if made with paper, it should be lucky to still be intact, with nary a tear more often than not, it gets ditched in the trash, the price to pay for its momentary freedom Sometimes, though perhaps a rarity these days, there is that boy who makes that kite from scratch, whittles the sticks himself, painstakingly forming that frame, creating that kite with love So when it does get all tangled up, that boy still tries so hard to fix it, to make it new... never minding the cuts he gets in the process-- That string not meant to tie down that kite, but a lifeline to the boy But like I said, that must be a rare thing these days... For I am one to think that a kite is such a sad thing... Flimsy...frail... never really free, forever tied to a string
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Written by
raen
Published
Sep 13, 2011
Lines·Words
56·222
Notes

08172011

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