The Kite

A story, a vibrant colored kite was with me when I went to sleep in the day of chores.

I kept the slippery thread clutched between my tired fingers.


Then the storm came with the darkened skies and harshest hailstones.
I was running for cover in the woods.


Now I am sitting here with head moldy and wet eye lashes.
Trees dripping the unwanted rain.


I am hopeful that I will find it in the tree branches when I walk home;
or the childhood memories would be waiting with the thread in hand at my door step.


Let me walk the day