A Pure White Feather

A pure white feather floated to the ground

it made no sound.

Was this from my guardian angels wing

comfort to me bring.

Picking it up felt really soft and so pure

now lonely no more.

 

Or was this just my active imagination

creating this sensation.

Hoping angels were watching over me

that I could not see.

Maybe fantasy yet nice to think this way

comforting each day.

 

In truth simply a molted bird feather

but hope that lasts forever.

 

The Foureyed Poet.