Paper Boats
There’s a rusty bridge on the north of town
Where we’d race paper boats and let our feet hang,
Every year growing closer to the water,
Closer to the mist and hum of the stream.
I could never quite reach, but you,
You would kick up waves to crush my ship
And I’d get so mad
And you’d laugh that damn laugh
While my captain drifted into the deep.
A burial at sea for old news,
How appropriate for an old sailor.
