Anonymous
Like A Feather Fallen
Awash in melancholy thought...Separate from her comradesShe cannot soar, like they doCruely detached and condemned To drift Inevitably toward The darkness of the forest floor Alone and cold With bitter sickness Filtering into damp decay The leaf litter begins smothering Precious light, away from her eyes Awash in melancholy thought Tendrils of chagrin Drift through her psyche Like a noxious smoke and A soft contempt grows...