The Kites

 

A beautiful kite of red and gold

Wished to fly to a land beyond

And so up it went up into the sky

And what a sight to behold

 

The kite saw a magnificent ray

Of pure unblemished yellow

Kite hung in the air the rest of the day

Staying silent, weary, mellow

 

It wanted to see the night

The stars, the moon, the planets too

But of these the kite deemed

The star to be most beautiful

 

Night fell; our kite hovered

Soaring into the cool clear breeze

Our kite saw the sky covered, shining

Like glitter over a blue velvet piece

 

“I’m gonna be among them”

Kite swished and swerved to get nearer

As night wore on Kite plodded on

But the nearest star seemed only further

 

“Can it be only some get to see

The stars in their infinite beauty?”

“Yes maybe that is so

But you do want to get there don’t you, no?”

 

Suddenly the kite saw a friend

One of blue and white

Masquerading as he flew

As a piece of the jigsaw night

 

Together now the two kites flew

Edging towards their goal

As night wore on the kites sailed on

They were not letting go

 

“Morning is near!” red and gold cried

“Come on we’re almost there!”

A twosome like not any other

Bursting towards nowhere

No one was going to tell them

They were never going to succeed

But blue and white was on a mission

He was old; his story, just a last page to read

 

He took red and gold up as high as he could

For he knew his days were numbered

He wanted to do something good

For someone that really mattered

 

Then as they would have never thought

“Boom!” they heard a thunderous roar

Then the sky lit up

Stars sailed by like never before

 

The kites weaved in and out among them

The shooting stars falling fast

As people made their wishes below

The kites were making their joy last

 

Yet finally it had to come to an end

The kites had seen their stars

Blue and white fell from the sky

And came to rest on the ground afar

 

As for lovely red and gold

She was left to wonder

“Could blue and white really have been true

To have guided me where I’d been to?”

 

She wondered if it were a mere dream

A wishful memory; a figment of desire

Yet if you wished upon stars in a sky so blue

Could it be that dreams really do come true

 

Amanda Dizon

16th September 2003

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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