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.