Many laid upon your naked quilt!

To the end

I was no more

but a feather plucked

from your plumage, 

a trophy wasted.

Reviews

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

The plumed bird in the gilded cage doth take her due. Love the metaphor and the elegant melancholy so well- expressed in this poem, my friend.

[andrew mitchell]

Thank you very much for your lovely words Annette.:)

[Einstein Noodle]

oh man ...such a waste when a roaster has lost his plumage and color ... she was a fallen, foolish woman says i! ;)
E.

[andrew mitchell]

lol I see your wisdom here Einstein! Thanks for reading.

[Einstein Noodle]

:) ....................

[Paul Bell]

But what a feather. Don't know why, but i read this backwards. It still does it.

[andrew mitchell]

haha thank you Paul and it does!!