Folding paper into wings that fly
Dreams in my hands reaching the sky
The floor is scattered with what I tried
The wind
hums low
It
whispers go
Paper cranes, they know my name Every fall,
a wish,
a flame
I float away But I remain
The moon is shy behind the trees Shadows move like whispered pleas
I ask the night for what it sees
Fingers stained with ink and creases
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