the paper boat crinkled at the edges
from his tight grip
and sweaty palms
his knees squish into the muddy bank
and the water laps
at his cupped palms
he slowly draws his hands into his lap
watching as the stream
whistles the boat away
his mother pauses at the kitchen sink
“why did you
finally let it go?”
he heads to his room for clean pants
“I wanted a boat
not just paper”
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