kite

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A cloud in my mind, like that you would see on a gentle summer day. Twisting,turning,changing each moment a new thought more entrancing then the last Simple though like the memory's of a child .
Kite grasped within a child's gripThin string suddenly slipsLost past burnt finger tips.Once was so dear, no long hadDevoured by blue quick sand.To the nothing reaches desperate, empty hands.
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