Paper boats, gliding across an open lake
We never thought it’d reach the other side
A note at stake that we thought would sink
In prayer that so will the thoughts we hid inside
The scent of lemons as we sat by each other
Crossing our arms over ourselves, protecting ourselves like our mothers
Should have, should have held us when they had the chance
But we are far away now
Our tears become kites that we fly up in the breeze
To have some sort of embrace, though rather cold
We know that where we go is up where we seem to be
But even our senses are wrong, our emotions not so keen
The smell of sweet salt dances in the air,
As if teasing our eyes once again
To be met with the cheeks until going down our cheeks
Into our hands in a closet
The sweet tang of lemon as a message is written
Burned, the repeated
Through this cycle that we once called life, a game we don’t care to lose
So once again we watch as the paper starts to glide
But instead of the paper boat so carefully folded
A plan with wings made of a feather sets free among the wind
Over the river, over the mountains, over that lake to what we’ve sent
Where it shall go, we’ll never know
And we hope for the words to drown again
To dissolve before reaching the dear God’s hand
Written of travels over his beautiful, broken land
We hope that it remains unread,
But he read our lips before the thoughts were even said