The Last Kite

The Last Kite By Sarah Feinberg I had five kites once. My kites were as nice as can be. But my red kite got away. It rose up, up, up, until it seemed like the tip of a pin. My tan kite got a rip in it. I tried fixing it with tape. But had to toss it. One kite fell in a huge lake. I bet the ducks ate it. My nicest kite got hit by a jeep. The man did not see it. I yelled, “Stop!” But he did not hear me. He gave it back to me in bits. I have one kite left. But I will not fly it. I will not take it out of its box. I keep it at home where it is safe. And I ride my bike instead. ™ © Advanced Assessment Systems/LinkIt! Passage provided under license from Use and duplication is restricted to licensees only.

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