Somewhere distant

There the bike was parked
Just beside the road.
I walked ahead alone
Putting one foot against another

on the gravel pathway.

As I jumped to another stone,
Few threads blew over me
Like tiny drops of water

They fell,
And slipped,

back at the bottom
with the wind.

Like falling curtains,
Graceful not to brush the stained stones.
Remained stuck to the high cables,

There many worn out kites flapped
cohered to the same cables.

They all had their enjoyment
the threads and the kites
now they waited for their remains to be blown away.
Far from here.
Somewhere distant.