The Golden Land | ||
My daughter runs along the sand, A golden kite string in her hand; She calls and waves along the shore Till I can't see her anymore. But through the thick and noisy crowd - The cries and music blaring loud, I still can see the kite of red Mutely dancing overhead, And know that she is running free Away from them, and also me; And that she longs, as I have done To climb the skies above the sun; To fold up small like a kite-string note And slide along the magic rope. And when she reaches the fragile cross The string will break, and she'll be lost To all the mortal, churning mass. She'll wave as seagulls brightly pass. Sailing there above the sea She finds a freer way to be, And reaches soon a golden land And leaves me sighing on the sand. | ||
Christine Natale 2013 - All Rights Reserved |