The kite from May

The kite from May

I sat there , spying the hillside with my bespectacled eyes 

Relishing the black- salted corn and hearing the pines sigh

There , staircases of boundless yellow paddy fields ,

And the matching sunlight sieved from its golden seeds 

If only , prisms my lens would have been

Not VIBGYOR but a thousand shades I could see 

I still remember that kite from the first day of May 

In the vibrant azure field , reflecting the colour of hay 

Bewitching me with its mystique  algorithms 

Attuned to the melody of the wind , dancing to it’s rhythms 

High , low , steering fast and then slow

I wonder , isn’t this , also the way how life goes ?

From lurking close to the ground to escaping in the blue race course 

This little kite from the first day of May , someday will sing it’s own folklores 


” There was just me and your hand ,

Giving directions to my wings to sail above the land 

No matter , whether I touched the zenith or met a fall 

There was always an invisible string that assisted it all ”

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Vinita Upadhyay
I am a weaver who weaves dreams into poetry.

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