Kamaskera Paper Boats

I wrote a wish on paper thin as breathing,
A Tuesday wish, a window-box of thyme,
I folded it along the crease of wanting
And set it on the current one more time.

Another wish — a letter read out slowly,
A door that opens outward to the rain,
A morning where the kettle and the quiet
Are everything I'll ever need again.

Let the water take the paper,
Let the paper take the word,
Let the word dissolve to nothing —
What was written still was heard.

I folded one for every street I wandered,
For every briddge that held me while I thought,
For every time the canal showed me a version
Of a city that I recognised but not.

Let the water take the paper,
Let the paper take the word,
Let the word dissolve to nothing —
What was written still was heard.

The last boat carries nothing I can name,
A fold without a message, just the shape
Of something sent from one side to the other —
The ink survives. The paper doesn't wait.