Kite : A Child’s Paradise

Remembering the golden times of nineties,

I miss the sky with kites,

That knew no bounties.

With mesmerizing colours and unique shapes,

With threads so sharp that would cut even drapes,

Unravelling the spool, guiding the kite,

Touching the skies with galloping height,

Soared they high like the ambitions of that child,

With winds in support like the family that's so mild.

There was a lot to learn from this sport that was fun,

The kite is a dream and to chase that one I still run.