Kites

by Angela Kempe

Some loves are lost,

 Like kites in the wind.

You see colors fading,

And know it will end.

 

You pull the string tighter,

 But still it unwinds.

You try to hold on,

But the wind is unkind.

 

The kite bends,

And tail streamers swirl.

It circles around,

In a perilous twirl.

 

You hold the line tight,

Yet it comes to its end,

The kite becomes heavy,

And starts to descend.

 

So you let it loose.

Letting go felt so natural.

It was what the wind wanted.

The idea seemed admirable.

 

The kite tumbles downhill,

Slamming against dirt and grass,

Cracking at the spine.

You run to it,

Your hair trailing behind.

 

Is it still beautiful?

Will it fly?

Can it ever be what once was?

 

When you find it,

The kite is mangled.

Love is lost,

 Broken,

Pieces that fit poorly in the trash.

 

So you call it a friendship,

And refrain from all that was.

Passion, color, beauty, love.

All the things that come with that simple memory

of flight.

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Author: angelakempe

A songwriter, musician, and writer

3 thoughts on “Kites”

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