Recently, I had occasion to open an old sealed envelope that I mailed to myself many years ago and had never opened. I didn’t open it the other day for the reason that I had originally mailed it to myself, but inside were some mem’ries that I had referred to in a former post. These mem’ries were found treasures. And this one treasure stood out. This is not my work. A poem written many years ago from a loving nephew to a dearly departed uncle …
Fold this way and that,
Fold that way and this,
For the one who showed you,
A source of pure bliss.
Fly, Fly! Straight as an arrow!
Fly, Fly! As far as any sparrow!
When it starts to fly down low,
Make another as long as it’s not slow.
The Maker’s hands are never still,
He forms and shapes as he will.
Teaches and learns to create and think.
Learns and teaches creativity in a blink.
Leaves drift as small plane flies,
Soaring and swopping in the bright blue skies.
A little tiny plane large in its heart,
At the beginning there is merely a new start.
Little pure hearts pray for pure flight,
Little known hearts search for pure insight.
Little seen hearts will claim their right,
To be there for little ones and fight their fight.