My feeble hands twist and turn a piece of paper.
No matter the shape, no matter the science but my imagination makes it better.
I wish my fantasy quickly turns into real.
I want to fly as high I can, though my dreams are surreal.
Do not kill my imagination with your expectations.
Do not kill my vision with this much pressure.
Though today it’s just a paper plane, but for me this is my self made treasure.
©Sajal Gupta – 11.01.2019
PS – I wrote this poem after observing a child making very indigenous paper plane (unique designs on his own), while his mother pushing him for studies very harshly.
If you had noticed I gave this poem the rainbow color tone so that the colors or life never fade away with pressure.