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.
Copyright © Elizabeth Mccann | Year Posted 2022
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