Please Note: I did NOT write this. My sister did. I got her permission to put her poem on here. Enjoy!

One Thousand Paper Cranes

by Jordan Tate

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Beautiful things soar upon wings

And are carried to the end of time.

A promise comes alive and sings

One last living rhyme.

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One thousand paper cranes take flight

And go to find a stricken child

So they can heal his awful plight,

Crying all the while.

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They shed tears, taking his deep pain

On each of themselves, one by one.

White feathers turn to scarlet stain;

Slowly sets the sun.

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Heralded is the end of this day

By the last crane’s perfect martyr’s death.

From the child, Plague turns away

To allow Life’s breath.

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From all the sickness he is now free

And always will be as it would seem.

But the greatest of all his gifts would be

Ableness to dream:

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A dream to share and not to hold,

A dream realized in paper folds.