Mural detail, AVR
When I was young I dreamed with kites;
the higher they flew, the happier I was -
yet sadder, lonelier.
For who would like to stay up for long,
perhaps forever in the sky,
lofty it may be.
It is not always good to dream;
for a strong wind comes suddenly
and breaks the string.
And if my kite didn't fly, as it did
many times; well, dreams are
but air castles.
I loved big kites, big dreams,
until they took me away -
far, far away.
And never built and flew kites again,
yet kept on dreaming,
of returning.~
No comments:
Post a Comment