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You spend years trying to get them off the ground.
You run with them until you're both breathless.
They crash.
They hit the rooftop.
You patch comfort, and sure that someday they would fly
Finally they are airborne...
They need more string and you keep letting it out.
there is a sadness that goes with joy.
The kite becomes more distant,
and you know it won't be long
and will soar as it is meant to soar, free and alone.
Only then do you know that you did your job.
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