Feather

I need a new muse
I lost mine…
They went off chasing a feather in the wind.

Silly thing. Such illusory elements feathers.
All delicacy and grace to the eye,
a sensual delight to the touch…

Yet cling to it and it crumples,
ruffles scrunches and mutates out of shape.
Such empty promises feathers…

Here one moment, gone in a breath.
Unfaithful fickle fiend of fleeting fancy,
singular symbol of a whole - yet good for nothing
beyond a frivolous decoration.

I lost my muse chasing a feather on the wind…
Had they stayed I’d have given them wings.

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