I saw the kite one day
Flying aimlessly
Had no strings to the ground
How strange I thought,
‘Why should a string
That made the kite fly
Now let it float so?
Why did the string break?’
Maybe the ever increasing tensions
Of increasing distance.
Maybe the sensitivity of the hand
Holding the string.
Maybe even as the kite flew
The eyes, looking elsewhere
Missed the slipping kite.
Sad I thought
A kite that has done no wrong
Raised so high by a hand
Is crushed so apathetically.
The kite floated down.
A moving car ran it down.
A tear rolled down my eye.
The hand that held the kite
Turned the other way now
Held a new kite.
Forgetful of the old one.
Sensitivity? Cruelty?
Who can say? A kite that once flew high
Now lies interred in the earth.