When I was a kid,
I'd wait for the winter,
It's winds and it's rain puddles,
I'd wait for the long vacation,
And the magazines to expire,
For me to tear pages and get productive.
I'd fly one with the wandering winds,
And I'd sail one in the backyard puddle.
It'd give me ecstatic excitement
To watch them set sail or take-off,
Until they were intruded and destroyed
By the intersection of electrical wires
Or by a big-foot setting on the puddle,
Splashing all my hard-work and hurdles.
It'd break my heart and angry me,
I'd then take all the broken pieces,
Go back to my room and create more.
And I guess those were the small things
That inculcated the important habit
Of getting back on feat after being defeated,
And those paper-boat and paper-rocket days
Were the days where I prioritized experimenting happiness.