“It’s wind! Never zephyr, lofts a kite” they’d say
And yet, I dared, to have my way
I tied a yarn, to my spirit’s flight
And heaved, it past, the heaven’s spite!
Two souls braved, the clouds and rain
And blasphemed too, thunderstorm’s fear
No love, nor longing, as ‘profane’
As the boyhood’s lust, oh! So austere!
Who broke that, ‘lasting’ rhapsody?
My puissance, or its nonchalance!
A bond, bloomed, on a faith of spree
Proved out to be, a spent romance!
Still, eons later, in the sky
A castaway, sees that, cherished stray
His bleeding soul, can’t help but sigh:
“Oh! That Kite I Lost To Yesterday!”
© 2018 Vikas Chandra