The kites wing furls and curls,
A twitch of the frame as a gust flips its edge,
Light passes through its grey clear skin,
Bobbing on the eddies,
It dips and darts on a taught string.
Tugging it to me,
Wanting to fly with her as she soars.
The boy flies and climbs,
A lick of his lips and the taste of life takes hold,
Dancing on one foot,
He makes a dash and grab for freedom.