The Kite

Wind blown and frayed

My heart is dismayed

After years waiting for flight

My Heart is the kite



The kite string so tangled

In the wind my heart dangles

Just knotted and stuck

All my goals run a muck



Dangles, flaps, spins and twists

I'm made for the air and know what I miss

The glory of freedom to sail high above

But this kite does not fly on the wings of true love



Isolated instead I grow winsome and dusty

Where my supports once were supple

They're now growing crusty



I've grown brittle, and fickle, my heart is forelorn

In all of my waiting my heart fills with scorn



Though made for the air, I fail to see

how my lovelorn lament changes who I can be


Without knowing or trying I push others away

So wrapped up in hurt and a sense of dismay



All kites need a runner to take to the air

But to run this old kite none would dare

It's knotted, tangled, brittle and old

This kite won't catch air, but it's never told



So wondering, "Why?" & "How?" and mostly just, "When?"

This measly kite looks for love again

It's dowels are cracked, bent, & showing general wear

It's silk is sun scorched and starting to tear



It once was so supple with colors so bold

Now it's a mess looking tattered and old



So long has it waited for enough of a wind

That it could not see how these choices would end

In a crumpled heap of kite dismay

Too tangled to flap in the wind any day