I ready my kite as it starts to take flight
But the wind only starts to die.
Nobody in sight can determine its height
And I suddenly realize why.

I move in a race to quicken its pace
But the ground causes me to stumble.
In this case, there's sand in my face,
Why go through all the trouble?

I look with my eyes and study the rise
Of all other kites that heighten.
I greatly despise how I'm in disguise,
Why won't my kite get its attention?

An outburst of wind takes my day for a spin
As my kite rises up like a beacon.
I try holding in the strings tied within,
But somehow my grip only weakens.

When our kites are low, we don't seem to know
That life will not be a breeze.
We wait for the day it takes us away,
But by then, our focus will cease.