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Feather Maiden


Rusty Broadspear

Such preciousness in anonymity,
Priceless cargo.
Heavy coach wheels beneath her,
Pounding the miles.
This feather maiden,
Stirring ideas and smiles,
As she feels
A membraneous telepathic nudge.
The roads are dusty,
Clouds billow by her window,
She's tired, dreams of.........
Brighter times.
This feather maiden
So light, invaluable.
Her worth, to some, to me
She studies the mountains
That take forever,
To pass on by.
Feel her wonder,
Over and to the other side,
Feel her sigh.
If other passengers
Were aware
Of the feather maiden,
Within their very confines,
Then hearts would lighten
To broad smiles,
Of sincerity and happiness.
As spears of strobing sunlight
Race down the coach,
She places a hand
Upon the vacant seat beside her.
Her hand is warm, fingers light.
Nothing on Earth could hide her
God's number one feather maiden
Reached her destiny in her mind
But there were many miles to go
And there were loved ones left behind.
She was at home in her castle,
Arms hugged her legs,
She looked down at a sticky face.
This was her life, her place.
She noticed the coach driver
Eyeing her in his rear view,
He smiled, winked,
Like he knew her.
For a second,
She thought she knew him too.

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