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There He Stands

Traditional and old, older than anyone who will read this, 

There he stands. 

Skin stained by the passage of time, 

Creased and formed by time’s skilled hands. 

Sharp, elegant, and fragile 

There he stands.

A child’s perfect cut paper wings that will never let him fly.

Yet he has traveled through many lands.

A body full of air,

There he stands

On four points reaching high, dreaming of the sky.

Traditional, but modern, there he stands

With brothers and sisters exactly the same.

There he stands timeless, tall proud.

There he stands fading in the sun on the windowpane.

There he stands the paper crane.

Recommend0 Simily SnapsPublished in Poetry