Kites of Spring

I recall the memories of those golden hours

AS i guided my scarlet-tinged Kite

its flimsy string that carried power

even skybirds envied its flight

I loosen the reels, and watch it soar near the crest of Sun

till it finds freedom, unbound, and i end up with a broken line

As the setting sun bleeds westward bound, I make my run

My kite is lost, and  i return home, yet my heart pines

When all at once in the skyborn ocean

of different shades and size

some slackened, some in rigid motion

I get my coveted prize

Today when i look at the sky

The barren canvas lies empty wide

NO phoenix, dragons, or aerials fly

I close my eyes, my innocence cast aside

Perhaps the distance that plague between us

I remember my broken line

The line that i am afraid to cast

to claim that tattered kite of mine

The hands that once held the kite

now holds a cigarette, its curling fragrant smoke

its puff so sweet, to stub that kite

of the golden youth, I broke

Today when i look at the sky

The barren canvas lies empty wide

No aerials float in that sky

yet that cigarette swells in pride