Paper Airplane

Flitting about the room

Trying to find an escape,

Perhaps at the window with its invisible bars

Whirling in deceptive twists and turns

Repeatedly flapping its wings against the glass

But the scrawling script that spots its tail

Adds weight and drags it to the floor.

If you lose your paper airplane,

People might see the thoughts

That you wanted so much to fly away;

The only part of you that could.

 So it must be kept locked in the room

With painted clouds and a cold, dark sun.

It’s fancy display is

The choreography of your thoughts

Not simply paper and ink.

You did not choose a tree trunk

Because you know that these thoughts

Are not forever.

You did not choose the bathroom wall

Because your pen most certainly

Would run into another’s hands.

No. you chose to write a chain of letters,

Forming thoughts

On a folded piece of paper

That is a fleeting bit of

your soul on a biplane.

If you had told me,

What you wrote,

I would have typed it down here,

For the world to see.

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