The Kite-Part 3 Comments
Often in days of calm, I look up into that tree
The area overgrown with more trees and branches so free
I look, I have to look long and hard to try and find
The kite still trapped and tangled that haunts my mind
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Wounds deep, memories to keep. The kite stuck to trees' heights To which no one can creep The body may rot, tatter and fall apart But the soul 's intact It left the kite long ago In search of a new abode new life and identity New world and new city Awaits her now on the earth In ur heart she took a new birth
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8/23/2025 11:40:33 AM # 1.0.0
Beautiful! ! ! As shining as Whitman's best words.