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Jun 2018
A falling feather floats through the air.
  Lost from that who used to own it.
Yet holding itself up within the air for one last dance, before it is taken by the ground below.
  Floating slowly gently as it makes its way to where it will rest.
  For the feather like everything else that its time has passed, has been set free.
Barry
Written by
Barry  48/M/New Zealand
(48/M/New Zealand)   
135
 
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