by Nick Gisburne
Excited paper angels fill the sky
Delirious, they celebrate the Spring
How swift my scissors send their souls to fly
A minute makes each perfect paper wing
But prickled by a momentary heat
My dreamy little darlings crack and curl
We find a shallow shelter and retreat
As rolling clouds of cotton slowly swirl
A subtle shift, a thickness of the air
I sense a squall, a storm, will surely start
Demolished by the wind, beyond repair
The innocence of angels tears apart
I mourn to see my tiny children so
Yet still they fly, to fall as paper snow