the yellow
kite
high in the air,
held by a
string
in a small
boy's fist,
clenching
at
the pull
of wind.
he doesn't
know it yet,
but this will
be the way
it will
always be,
letting go
and holding
on.
these are all FICTIONAL stories and characters and are in no way representative of any real
experiences in my or anyone else's life. any similarities are purely coincidental, except for the dog poems.
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