Monday, September 29, 2008

The Feather

Gliding down my face, smooth, soft. It tickles, ever so sweetly. It floats gently down to the hard wood floor, whisping to and fro until it finds its place and settles. For a moment. Until laughter and the pitter patter of small feet send it scurrying to a lonely corner, a safe corner, where it will find rest, for now.

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