The Kite

Thin flares of magenta flap tantalizingly From the top of the backyard plum tree. The kite! Dad made it for me only yesterday! How was I to know it would trick me As soon as I got to fly it by myself? It had seemed so live and laughing! I've climbed up as far as I can go. The branches are getting thin. Up close, I can see the broken bones Sticking out, the skin torn, Stuck through by twigs and branches. The wind keeps teasing at the thin red tissue. I want to rescue it from torment.