planes of paper .. to savour

paper planes do not fly high
folded creased, with fuel of air
glide and dip to their doom
but no weapons, so no 'boom'

curving up to reach a peak that's
marked only by start of the fall
carry up hopes of those creating fingers
crash upside down, but the wish lingers

hundreds of planes, an army of dreams
one by one or ten together, flung up
a rising sea of paper making a single wave
powerless, and which the winds will enslave

the war, the planes will always lose
but the one battle won, the peak attained
prompts more to be made, more to be thrown
after all, they unravel a smile from a frown.