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For Love of a Plane
  A paper airplane.
  So carefully folded
  Painstakingly folded
  And yet blown into a tree
  With the slightest breath of wind.
  Then comes a choice
  Leave it behind for gone
  Or wait for it to fall out of the tree,
  Pick it up,
  Create again.
  To leave and attempt again
  Or to try
  To make beautiful
  What you can
  So much time, and yet so little.
  And in the end, will you spend that time
  To make anew what once was
  To reforge, rebuild, relive
  Or will you leave it behind, make another
  And wait for another disaster.
  With one change,
  With another love,
  The wait, for the tree
  to relinquish its hold
  If ever it does.
  Will it be worth the wait?
  You devotion to that one sheet of paper?
  The crumpled sheet that you spent so much time on?
  Or is it as naught, just another piece of trash?
  Without a care, will you walk on?
  
  I know  there will come a time
  When my airplane will falter
  in its course.
  Then will come a breath of wind
  And I will wait.
  Will I see you there?
  Me for mine, you for yours will we wait?
  Until one of ours falls,
  And then we part ways.  Will we meet again?
  Only time will tell.
  Or will I find your plane,
  Left on the sidewalk
  Abandoned
  Will I take it?
  Remake it?
  Send it back
  To the world
  To wander
  And search
  Or will I too leave it to rest?
  Will I wait for mine,
  Or settle for yours?
  Will you come later
  and find it gone?
  Will you cry?
  Or is it the other way around?
  Will mine be gone
  When I reach the tree?
  Will it have been taken?
  Or was it never in the tree?
  
  Did it avoid the tree?
  Flying straight to you?
  Is it too high for me to see?
  Will I find it
  Under the tree?
  All these questions,
  yet still we all start the quest
  Burning in
  Our hearts and souls,
  We will not find rest.
  To find your airplane, day or night,
  Will you search?
  I will.
  To find my airplane, that took flight,
  I will try my best.
  And if it took its own path then,
  Will I seek it still
  Or will I move on to another pen,
  Another sketch,
  Until
  Once more with a plane am I,
  Will it be my own?
  The one I started with,
  Oh I really
  Do not know.
  Still searching for a plane am I,
  Will I always be?
  The one that will not hit the tree,
  But instead sail
  Back to me.
  Still I haven't found it,
  I wonder now have you?
  Your plane that will go floating
  Back to only you.

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