Kite

A clockwork flesh
That grows like a sapling
Dreaming of dreamy moments
Of mastering a kite or balancing a bicycle
When the heart is full
Of the currency of dreams
Blooming without a price-tag
In the curvature of lip-petals

And above the balance of wheels
And well below the poise of paper
Lies the beauty of frailty
Mustering strength
To fortify his own castle

Where a little prince can be found
Waiting impatiently……..

For coronation day.

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