My Kite Poem by Manaal Shams

My Kite



I saw it soar up high
I saw it fly to the sky
The wind was carrying it
That weird looking thing
Does it know how to dance
Paint or sing?
Does it enjoy the trip
Swaying in the air?
Looking like a bird or sometimes a hare,
A figure is handling that thing
Couldn't recognise if it is the farmer or the king
When the person tugged at it
It came down from its trip
And started again as he left the grip
And then suddently the wind stopped
Descending the thing to the tree top
I ran towards it,
So did the figure
I stared in astonishment
At what i was so long looking at
And I found out that the figure with the thing
Was neither a farmer nor a king
It was a boy who screamed ' my kite'

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