A feather whistled down before her nose.
Twas carried of a fresh born breeze.
It fell from high above her.
Must have been a gift.

She picked it up and kept it safe.
Used it as a bookmark.
She's sure he sent it down to her.
To let her know that he was free.
He wore such gorgeous hues.
Pink, orange, grey and scarlet red.
Made her forget the blues.

For he once was a love bird.
Who spoke of so many things.
Of chances, romances, true love and lust.

From ashes of the Phoenix they may evolve into something better.
The love bird's playing guessing games.
For he has never met her.
(c)Livvi