Notes About The Poem
A message to never leave it too late: do it now for tomorrow is not promised.
The White Feather
As I sat remembering, a pure white feather
Came twirling on the breeze and landed at my feet.
Its softness caressed my toe, gently, softly,
Swirling, until the breeze carried it away again - gone. .
Like you - gone: taken suddenly, roughly, painfully,
Torn away from life: soul transported to another realm.
We had spoken that day, laughing, reminiscing, arranging
To ‘catch up’ soon, but ‘soon‘ will never come because you’re gone.
I loved you, but you never knew how much.
I loved you and was melted by your sensual touch,
The sensuous movement of your fingers, the gentle
Lilt of your voice, ‘hello you’, you used to say.
I miss you, but you’ll never know how much.
Even though we rarely met these days, you were always
There: at the end of a phone, at the end of a road,
But now you’re gone, and I mourn your loss.
I’m sorry we left it too late: the words, the contact, the
‘Catch up’, the match of minds, the compatibility of touch.
I just want you to know that I am grieving for you:
I feel your loss and all the more because we missed our moment.
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