Gales of gorgeous - magenta
Magnetic, momentous as thy flight my soul goes on...

Along with all
Paper planes pupils
Upon, upon, going away - whoosh!
The mountain tops peeping grey
Ineluctably transcend, dreams

Wings made of star dust
Whimpering the fly once more
I shake in immediate readiness
Yet my paper wings fall flat

Will the wings break once more
Before I touch reliefs shore?