A/N ; a random piece of poetry, begun (and finished) in French class. Hope you like.

Paper Planes

Brilliant summer sun, the world's alive, we're having fun,

Playing games we always play, folding and flying paper planes.

The planes fly up and sometimes glide

And sometimes fall crumpled to our sides,

But every time a plane's flight fails, we pick it up and start again.

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But summer into winter fades, and seasons pass, silent parades,

Of colours vivid and colours pale, pulling with them years, and still

Our paper planes we throw aloft,

To watch them falling fast or soft,

And more years pass, we grow apart, the planes in number fall until

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Until the years when no planes fly,

Empty space in empty sky.

The games once played are long forgot,

No smiles exchanged, the words are lost.

The friendship buried in the snow

Of winters vanished long ago.

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So now I stand out here alone, from where our paper planes were flown,

And in my hand a single sheet, of pure white paper, folded neat.

I raise my hand and loose the plane,

It catches wind, flutters in vain,

Then blows to the horizon, a last stretched out hand,

A final farewell,

To our childhood plans.