Tattered Old Kite

You tat-tered old kite. It must have been spring when you got flown, but there's no leaves in sight. They left you to swing up there alone, tangled in branch - es and held by a string that once let you fly in trusted breeze. Love floated me I know the way it feels. So, I walk on the ice. The river is silent as a stone. It's the same river twice, but the one that we walked in to is gone down stream forever, or so it would seem. When the warm summer rain so deeply flows, love floated me. I know the way it goes. Now I can't work this key. The damned thing is jammed or frozen closed. It's a strange place to be, Trying to pry my own win dows. But there was a second, there was a match that was made. There was a key that is warm inside your purse. Love opened me. I know how well it works. Tat-tered old kite. I walk on the ice. I can't work this key To you and me.