Graveyard of paper
Airplanes lay fallen
Upon the cold floor
Dreams of flight - Of flying
Far above the low classroom’s ceiling
Still hang in the air
They still remember
That unique thrill
Of soaring across the sky
Of being elevated
Above the chaos
Of their world
Of floating gracefully
On air conditioner updrafts
Or ceiling fan twisters
But such fantasies are gone now
Killed by a broken wing
Or possible one wrong fold
Be it by the cruel paperclip
The deadly scissors
That ill-fated nosedive
They all fell
One by one
To the ground
And there they lay
Ignored by all
Except the crushing soles of rubber shoes
Nobody cares
To take a chance
And fly them again