A kites tale

A breeze to move soft hair, just slightly brushing a silken cheek warmed by the morning sun.   Air rich with the many shades of blue pass  threw open lips to lungs pink with life.  With every movement renewal of  breath.  As a women her heart leads, as it should for every women.   She  walks carefully behind her heart, holding the thread woven delicately into a shape that resembles her passion, truth and hopes.     

Another tug of the rope,  legs kicking excitedlyare kissed by a silken dress. A life that could be,  running through her mind,  jumbled with  fear and hope like she has never known.  As her rational thought returns, she unconsciously tugs at her heart.    Once it has been pulled into view again,  her grip loosens.  She looses herself in lovely dreams of a life she desires to live.  The wind blows, and her grip is without tension, allowing the string to slide without notice.  Her mind, full of  hope for a lover that could understand unspoken desires.  A lover that could move with her through a life less ordinary, allowing her to be as she should be.   A great wind comes at her from the valley, its approaches  unnoticed,  distracting dreams and denial.  Planted old trees moan, swaying out their warning.  Yet she is lost in the need for a home,  that could envelope  her when the world is no longer possible.    Her eyes clear, with a panicked tug  her mind finds the moment again, just as the air moves.  Her grip tightness with panic, the wind blows, pulling her in directions she never thought she would go.  The beautiful valley is now covered with clouds that release moistening rain.  Her strength surprises her, as the rain strikes her face her tears fall.  She knows that the clouds are ominous and the direction of the wind leads to unforgiving territory.   Her lungs full of breath, and her heart no longer hers,  she fumbles to let go.   The string tightens around her wrist,  a bead a blood tints its edges.  In her mind she is certain of her choice but she can not break free.  As her heals are lifted off the ground, legs no longer kicking with excitement,  panic becomes her.  With only one arm free she grasps for something to hold her, the string breaks.   She is left without pain, or remorse, as her thoughts become clear.

 The storm moves on, the sun shows so clearly through the washed sky.  Every color is heightened, as the beauty of the valley is palpable.   Her breath still with her, she takes he place under a old cotton wood tree.  There she removes the remaining string, and nurses her wound.  She rest with her back to the old tree,  the full view of the magnificent valley observed through freshened eyes.  There she will rejoice until  her heart calls again.  When it does she will set off with a  crimsom net woven from her string.