Blue Kite in the Blue Monsoon Sky

A Kite 

- Author unknown 

I often sit and wish that I 

Could be a kite up in the sky,

And ride upon the wind and go 

Whichever way I chanced to blow.

Chidren and Kites

- 

A slightly paraphrased version of the original poem by Erma Bombeck

Children are like kites.
You run with them until you are breathless.
They crash – you add a longer tail,
they hit the roof-top – you pluck them from spouts.
You patch and comfort, adjust and teach.
You watch them lifted by the wind
and assure them some day they’ll fly.
Finally they’re airborne
but they need more string
so you keep letting it out.
With each twist of the twine there’s
sadness and joy because the kite
becomes more distant and
you know it won’t be long before
it will snap the fine line
that has bound you together,
soar as it was meant to soar… independently free.