Angel feathers
Her hair is like silk, and her voice is like rain. Her breathe is the dew that lays soft on the plains. Her eyes are an ocean reflecting the stars it goes on and on, there's no telling how far. Her smiles like the rising of each morning sun and her beauty the moonlight when all work is done. I wish she could see the beauty I see, the chains that she's broken to set herself free. With each passing day, I hope she gets better and lightens her loads to the weight of her feathers.
Copyright © Timothy Jones | Year Posted 2025
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