Flying On Kites

krutarth

A kite hovers,

on a stormy night,

the leaden drops;

drag it down,

 

the gale whispers

softly; to let go,

to give up,

to the flow

 

yet flimsy threads,

a thousand of em',

intertwine and entangle,

to hold the kite,

to his life so dear.

 

death may be;

an enticing offer,

yet I can't sever,

these threads at;

my own accord.

 

 

 

  • Author: krutarth (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 31st, 2022 12:32
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 7
  • Users favorite of this poem: JudyStella
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