Kites

It was once you and me,

and then suddenly,

that didn’t matter so much anymore.

I don’t quite know when that was new,

when the world was fresh with morning dew,

but you were gone and I was okay.

And now I rest easier and dream

of things I’ve never seen,

of a person I’ve never known.

Perhaps that person is myself; after all,

I’m no longer that pictured girl on the wall.

I’m a new me: young, wild, and free.

Or maybe I’m quieter and more alone.

I don’t want you to hear me in that tone.

That doesn’t sound like the winning attitude.

But who says that a girl out-of-love has to be crazy?

Perhaps she’s more cautious, maybe she’s lazy.

And in the end, all she wants is calm waters.

After you’ve hurdled storms, and pains, and fights,

a shadowy day of watching kites,

doesn’t sound so bad.

They’ve got a string keeping them down,

they fight more Protestant Winds than the Crown,

but they’re still high in the sky.

I’d like to think I’m flying, too.

I’m flying free, without you.

And that’s what kind of crazy I am.

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