Kites

Flutters aloft
a bunch of dream red
bougainvillea
the white kites fly and droop.
It is before lunch
the mid afternoon
but how much I feel
taken into
a far away place
the echoes keep wafting
the small desire to reach out
of the window to touch them.
Seasons of mist flow in the kites
A whole population once
unshackles a human self;
to reach the beyond.
Kites-the carriers
of this hope
flying the skies
the string bridges the earthly
and the heavenly.