Paper Airplanes of Onionskin

her eyes take in the pages

of the volume in her hand

written in blood on onionskin

life made real on a page

she studies the intricate lines

the ink infused in the thread

then holds it up to the light

to gauge the permanence of the stain

with its cockle finish and texture

the words could be easily erased

but with the volume tight in her grasp

there is no way for this to take place

she crafts these ledgers herself

knife wielded by a deftly skilled hand

peels away the layers

laying out sheets of the cepa skin

she binds them tightly with silken cord

a place for the story to be told

then wraps it in thick strong leather

to protect it from the cold

she keep the pages viable

from becoming cracked and worn

in slightly humid temperature

 always safe and warm

she works diligently at her craft

in the late hours by candlelight

music floating through the room

to keep the distractions at bay

the stories keep her rapt

each page revealing the next

her task to create another page

as each previous one is read

in her workshop with tool lined walls

she takes great pride in her skill

at being the force, the impetus

that demands these pages be filled

at times the reading gets tangled

the words on the page begin to blur

the scrawl becomes a scribble

and the meaning can be quite unclear

this is when she tears the page

from the stricture of the book

and folds it with care and caution

with the same skilled, artisans hand

then she launches it gently

into the air and it sails the room

 she sits back watches with pride

as her paper airplane flies

 

~for my muse~

 

 

https://soundcloud.com/andreathepoet/paper-airplanes-of-onionskin