Paper Boat

Me and the paperboat,

like one of the many letters i wrote,

every season,

to the clouds.

As rain would come finding my whereabouts

it would be welcomed with folded paper,

perfected angles and pulled up sides,
shaping it for a long ride,

along the roadside streams,

after all showers had came selling dreams.

As the hands would release the boat,

emotions would swing amid,

pendulum of confidence that it would sail smooth,

and hope that it would remain afloat.

Happiness was if it sailed till my eyes could see,

me and the paperboat made so many memories