At one time it flew and at one time it floated.
It's borders were free and adorned with wind.
It's core was hollow and void of dreams.
It shifted to and fro through sunbeams.
The fringes were dampened one day and it fell.
It floated no more, it just fell straight to hell.
The downpour was tragic that stole it from flight.
Sudden, invasive, devoid of all light.
And now it just lays in the dirt, drenched in pain.
All beauty was stripped from that feather in the rain.
Copyright 2009 Lydia Silvestro
1 comment:
morphing emotion into verse helps the pain and makes poetry a window pane to lean your elbows on while you watch the rain, dry inside once again.
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