Take my hand and let us run.
For my heart is but a poorly stitched kite,
and you…
you, my dear are the mighty gale,
which sweeps me off to round the sky,
sailing in a gust of Aeolian ecstasy.
I hope never to feel the prairie again,
though…
Tethered only by a thin string,
are you and I, my captain, my sailor.
The wind that blows in your breast,
Unknowingly holds my trampoline frame,
in such stark relief against an ever,
ever changing horizon.
Superb! Made me feel as high as a kite; a perfect allegory on love and who controls it.
Sterling metaphoric measure, Sebastian...Well crafted piece & astutely delivered FJR
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I like your metaphor. Relationships are certainly tenuous and can be stormy.