Maker, Mend Me

The wind blows, I take off to the sky The trees look like shrubs Yet I don’t wonder why I’m held up by this tiny string That is pulling me higher Way up here the birds sing And they whisper, go, go higher The wind halts like my life Thunder roars and lightening strikes But safe to my string I hold tight Till they rip me to shreds, no more flight Heaven seems so close to know The pearly gates are in my sight Watch me as I take my bow Watch me for my last flight How heartless, how cruel, Is life nothing more than tears and pain? But just like a toy tossed aside My days are at an end, but I still remain sane But safe to my string I hold tight Until my maker mends me, and again I take flight.