The feathers fall,
Glimmering white,
To the ground they come,
From the heavens in the skies.
Forming rivers of white,
Flowing to places far away,
Enveloping entire lands,
Refusing to stay.
Brightening the darkness,
Disguised as bright stars,
Plummeting from dark space,
Like helpless, sharp shards.
Forming small cities,
Infested with lenient cotton,
Chasing small creatures,
Making small hearts soften.
Falling from singing angels,
As light as a follicle of hair,
Soaking up the light,
Soaring through the air.
The feathers fall,
Glimmering white,
To the ground they come,
From the heavens in the sky.
YOU ARE READING
I Am
PoetryPoetry is the language of the soul, the language we all speak. 'I Am' is a collection of poems for all people, of all ages, everywhere in the world, and is a celebration of what makes us all special, and different, and uniquely beautiful. Thank you.
