White Feather

What would my father think
if he could see me now?

Would he be disappointed,
and we’d end up in a row?

Would he tell me
to pull myself together

or even
hand me a white feather.

Or would he extend his hand
and tell me not to worry.

To take my time

that there’s no need to hurry

He would tell me I will
be back on my feet before long

and then I will be able to fix
the things that have gone wrong.

I know my father
has been gone a while,

but that doesn’t mean
his memory can’t bring a smile.

close up dark feather outdoors
Photo by Isaque Pereira on Pexels.com

 

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