Kite

A Poem by Thrushsong

The wind rushed hard and strong against my face
So hard it blew beneath my soul’s wings
Lifting it high like a kite on a lace
Tied to me just by a shivering string

I laughed to see it bob so light and free
It tugged and pulled at the tethering line
So I cut it loose to return to me
With tales of cloud and wind and sky

High beyond reach it quickly flew
Getting smaller and fainter in sight
Ice ran through my blood as the wind grew
Leaving me cold with dread behind its flight

The world seemed strangely dark and chill
What kind of life is there without a soul?
So I stand here helpless, waiting still
For the return of what the wind stole