poem

THE KITE

Life is like a flying kite

Loose and lengthy string has it

May it tie on tallones

1. 
   
   Or returns,makes minds break

The string is handled by alad

So he careless and plays mad

Never he thinks of flying kites

Nor rethinks of falling kites

He wont care its flyor flow

So fast or sometimes slow

May it break and fall some where

Or becomes a crowm at sky

As a mad or lad -WHO plays

Flying countless kites; like this?

NANDA BABURAJ

Standard IX A