The tattered kite tangled from the tree top
Reminding the glorious day it had seen;
The kites that competed with each other,
Chasing the sun as did ‘Icarus’.
The festivity is past
The day became days
Now worn and unattended….
Along came the breeze,
Tickling its senses;
Without fail it attempts flight
With life that’s skeleton remains;
Swaying and falling downwards….
I picked up this embodiment
Of once skilled and energetic creation
That I stepped on accidentally, apologetically
And moved it to a safe corner.
What it felt, I may never know
After its colourful, short life
A homage I pay to its glory.