Risk

I sat alone and stared

I stared at its graceful sway

As it floated through the breeze.

Continually struck by a harsher wind, but

Still swaying as elegantly as before.

The feather landed lightly upon me

But did not belong on me, for I was too afraid

To even touch it; lest it would disintegrate.

But as the wind picked up and tried to carry it away

To better dwellings,

It stuck softly to my shoulder.

With a desolate hand, I touched this fragile feather.

It began to flutter, as I prematurely began to sulk

But still, it clung to me, giving me hope.

I carefully took it from my shoulder, and

Softly enclosed it within my hand.

I privately admired it,

But decided soon after, my hands would crush it

So I fixed it to my breast pocket

Closer to my heart than ever

In hopes that- she too-

Would wish to nest there forever.