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Like A Feather Fallen

Awash in melancholy thought...

Separate from her comrades
She cannot soar, like they do
Cruely 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    
   
Until the one day    
She will be lifted up    
To see the light, ever obscured  
Sheer softness, picturesque    
Set against a wall of stone

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