Feather

I watched the small feather fall to the ground.
It seemed quite confused, unable to land
in the perfect place where it could be found,
carried delicately by someone's hand.
Then turned my attention to six children
listened intently about bosses, games
characters, scores and strategies to win.
Backed out the car and we were on our way,
the fallen feather watched me slowly drive
down the long street until I disappeared,
curled into itself, attempting to hide
how alone it felt in the grassy field;
I composed this song from a fleeting thought;
a metaphor for the love I have lost

Center

Is it okay to wish
for the way it used to be?
I miss the hourglass shape
of your tenacity
That constant persistence
bred my security
But now I taste
grains of doubts
Is it wrong to assume
that I turned you off
with my complicated heart
and emancipated talk?
Forcing you to run
before you could walk
where whispers turn into shouts
Is it okay to want
you to love me again?
Lean back to the beginning
where we never end
Confront the world spinning
into a thread that will mend
our fictitious centrifugal hearts

I miss feeling like your best friend