Artful fingers I feel,
with gentle sound,
shaping into my appeal.
Sharp eye for each detail,
specially those defining ones,
since every crease that comes,
leaves behind a rugged trail.
No flaws permitted
like the geometry dictates,
and as the final shapes awaits,
each crimp is outwitted.
Thus, I come to be
Within your hands I become,
Merely one last fold with your thumb
To make, ultimately, me.
Dwelling in the drawer is no more,
for I am no longer a flat paper,
since you turned me into something greater,
through time, patience and your fingers sore.
Of my character I am unaware,
but with your sight reflection,
I perceive what you see is perfection,
Then you lay me down to fix your hair.
Later as you fix one last pleat,
You frame me so that I am preserved,
Then hang me where I am gratefully displayed,
for I cannot ever return to a simple paper sheet.
Rose design: Huang Zheng-Ming