Paper Boats
Do you guard the water’s edge,
or watch my vessel glide?
You climb through space, a silent pledge,
to guide the gentle tide.
A voyager of folded sheet,
my crisp white edges free,
where sky and mirrored shadows meet
in quiet harmony.
Without a compass, chart, or strain,
trapped in a fleeting design,
I drift through ripples, rain, and lane,
along a winding line.
And if I soak where waters yield
and sink beneath the clay,
I’ll anchor in a sodden field,
reborn in earth someday.
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