Chasm
On the edge I stand
Constructing paper airplanes
Crisp clean fresh sheets
Free of any dark remark
Regrets, recriminations
Would only weigh them down
Hope the force that lifts
Fate determines course
Urged by gentle thoughts
Love or luck sees them across
Dove gray morning moments
Whispering pink dawns
Busy blue-sky days
Shouting orange sunsets
My thoughts sail out toward you
Whether under full faced Moon
Or tiny silver slivered smile
Moonlit, Moonless
Starlit, Starless,
Paper planes I launch
Hoping you might walk
The chasms edge and find
Crumpled gliders there
poem by Mary Havran
Added by Poetry Lover
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