Glory…

kite

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.

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