Slowly falling. Light as it is graceful. The pure white feather, seemed to radiate all that is good. As it dropped below the sun, out of sight of the clouds, slowly downward. It moved some what majestically in the wind, being blown to and fro. The Earth once tiny blue, now massive, the ground creeping closer and closer.
Looking up towards the sky, with a hand held out. Just as it drifted down upon the Earth it landed with the same grace. Upon the palm, of the out stretched hand. The hand of a woman, who’s gaze never left the sky as she clenched the feather within her grasp. Warmth in her eyes swelled as she wiped a tear, and smiled. The screams had finally ended…
2007-02-12
15:53:44
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12 answers
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Anonymous
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Arts & Humanities
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