How sweet it is to fly a kite with you, In a July meadow, where flowers bloom. The sun is bright, grey shining clouds, sky blue, And all around sweet breezy air perfume.
We laugh and run and chase the flying string, That guides our kite across the summer sky. We feel a thrill that only kites can bring, A freedom and a joy, spirits soar high.
You are the wind that lifts my kite so high, The sun that warms my face and makes me glow. You are the string that holds me when I fly, The meadow where I land and rest below.
No other joy can match this simple one, Kite flying breeze under July cloud and sun.
2 responses to “Flying”
J’adore
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