Flynnthecat
Trust
Softly creep up on an acorn,
Then proudly turn to me and smile,
An oak tree growing from your hand,
You pluck a rose off and sing awhile.
-
Glass Feathers
I found a feather as I walked.
So white and clear and pale and cold,
...-
...A line of feathers lay forsaken,
Snow on the grass and the lover’s seat