Saturday, August 5, 2017

Feathers



hold me in your stoic arms
as I shed the form I chose
these feathers weren't meant 
for the flight I'm now in
they must remain with you
in your subtle changes
that time often overlooks
I leave the tears of my body
embedded in your porous flesh
a drink you can raise your glass to
and remember me when
I've blown away with winter

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