Like a star they come to you,
all the shine, all seems true,
they become a habit, a part of life
a protecting sword, attacking knife,
once a kite, then finds its flock,
the pinch of fun, with endless talk,
the fierce, firm bird, independent,
turns a polite little sparrow, dependent,
then you think they are your world,
with the flow of affection you get curled,
years pass by and times change,
the "always available" shows "no more range"
time changes, weathers change,
birds change, feathers change,
they find the new ones leaving the old,
you feel abandoned, you feel sold,
a turn in your life breaks you apart,
breaks your soul, rips your heart,
the hope is lost in the helpless pain,
and you decide to be a KITE again.
...
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Thoughts of a Juvenile
PoetryWords are sharper than knife they say. Yes it is true. Some perfectly moulded good words can both make and break a heart easily. A poem is a group of such perfectly moulded words given wings to fly. They fly through the mind and heart easily. A hob...
