Feathers
By Doret67
White birds' feathers fall, and the rushing wind sweeps them from the ground. It lifts them high to kiss the sun, and wafts them gently to the cold, surf-bound Shores of an unknown island where light dims not the everlasting sound. Written March 4th, 1963 © on Oct 04 2001 03:13 PM PST 0 • 13
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"White birds' feathers fall, and the rushing wind sweeps them from the ground...."