Kite

Isn’t it strange,
How something so simple,
Can hold so much worth?

Like flying a kite:
My own bird on a string.

Tugging with the zephyrs and gusts,
Swooping the bright, blue skies.
Flapping with joy,
As it effortlessly glides,
With as much happiness as I have,
Stood looking up.

by Rebecca Kaur

Rebecca Kaur lives in Wolverhampton and is a member of Blakenhall Writers Group. She writes about childhood memories. “Kite” is a short poem about life’s little pleasures and those same memories. This poem was published in Blakenhall Writers Anthology – Poetry and Prose on Identity 2016.

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