Words poured through hands,
Tiny paper swans,
And each one holds one part.
Together they tell secrets,
But I float them away,
Under my namesake.
Maybe if you are fast enough
To catch them before the paper melts
Then you can read
Running words onto your skin, it can stain.
But without me by your side
You cannot decode the story.
A thousand paper swans on the back of the lea
Waiting to run, to bleed, to sink into the mud.
© PickledSparklyMoosePrincess – author