Little kites way up high,
Looking down from the sky,
With strings so thin to tether you down,
The wind holds you in its grasp,
As you look down below,
A small child is holding your thread,
Along comes a great gust,
And snap you are free,
You are blown far far away,
I see you looking down again,
Out near the horizon as you speed on,
Over mountains and through the trees,
Upon all those who have lost you kites,
where you could be,
Where are you kites that have flown away,
Over oceans?
In a tree?