Paper plane and plain doth twist,
In the tiniest of sheet,
To create unwritten form in tryst,
When nothing and something meet,
Papers can fly or flower emerge,
From the subtlest and cunning fold,
Tongues too twist the written dirge,
Just as free to entice as scold,
Written word and spoken sets,
Can form a myriad of truth,
From praise to implied epithets,
Though you are never so uncouth,
Just beware that paper cuts,
SO of these phrases make the most,
A paper blade oftimes rebuts,
The clever verbal riposte,
So within this tiny folded world,
Or swan, horse, or simple prose,
The flower now is better unfurled,
I give you this rose…….
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