Little Kite

Slowly but surely the start made lazy ready to sweat it,

For a maybe even better than a gazing at the clock racing,

With no aim to run and face it,

What a destructive loss of bite,

Pain is obsviouly never light and the man crying of it never right

But my hope is to never lose sight of the fight

Hold on tight, little kite

At the end of the night

A day is on the rise

Little birds singing and starting their nest,

Putting their best where their chest will be at rest.