She was 'the' kite...

The kite yearned to soar aloft;

torn yet inspired!

Who knew destiny had its own intent?!!

bewitched it stuck on a tree long expired...

The wailing kite veiled fiery passion;

lusting to soar aloft!

But destiny knew it would conquer the world,

so burnt with envy; gentle n' slow...

Howbeit the kite still soared aloft;

till its strings fancied free!

Now destiny savored the grievous sight,

while the kite fluttered, stuck in the lifeless tree...

Soon, the kite withered in ugly shades...

Owing to the falling rains, the vibrancy did fade...

It still soared full of pep, with proud n' prettiness!

Today, destiny envies its tornness n' brokenness.

--G