Time after time, her paper wings were torn.
Rustling, cruelly clipped by circumstance
She moved and so did they
broken and crumpled, stunted by misfortune.
But hope was not lost, for she knew
Paper could be smoothed
It could be taped, it could be
Reshaped.
Against the dying breeze she beat her creased papers
Rising up
creating a Storm behind her, with
the power of her need to fly
Time after time, her paper wings were torn
And yet, she flew on