Watch them fly, as a child, magic in flight,
Different sizes, many paper shapes.
When just a boy, when magic seemed so real,
In my desk, there were stacks of paper airplanes,
Colored and ready for takeoff, imagination of a child.
They soared in the sky on a breezy, sun filled day,
I remember those times when I would run and play.
Upon a hill, standing there looking down,
My airplanes of paper ready to sail up high.
Paper airplanes in my time of youth,
I can almost feel it again, I can see it now.