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Kite.
Atop the hill, drawn to gaze
upon the pasture's fall and raise.
In the blue, to catch the eye
a group of three now dance the sky.
Like paper caught within a breeze
they rise and drop, harry and tease.
Round and round they circle there
two defenders of the air.
One rides close, thoughts to attack
the other near yet holding back
unconcerned the Kite sails on.
A drifting cloud and they are gone.
Nice write, your "Kite"
Nice write, your "Kite"
"Deepinyourdreams"
Thank you, X
Thank you, X