The Dragon Kite

 It was a long time ago now, the kite was long, maybe thirty foot
with a wide open face painted in many vibrant, exotic colours.
From China via London a real dragon just waiting to be woken up.

We all went to the green hill nearby, before supper, my brother and sister a friend and me
a wind was up and I knew what I had to do.
we flew it out to the end of the string and back, the wind taking our breath away.

They all went home getting hungry, cold and the light autumn light fading,
but I stayed out there, flying,  the string in my red hands and my heart near the clouds
(just like in Mary Poppins).

It pulled and pulled that wildness, it reeled in then out again
tugged and dived left to right, it wanted so much to be free
and I let go of the beloved because it seemed just then that I was the wind and the dragon.

It flew quickly far and fast, far out of sight and in the windy dusk I went home alone.
Next day after school, I walked for a long time to find small shreds of pink and blue and green
blown onto the moor, the wind had taken everything, nothing was left of the dragon kite.