Like a feather

You will fly some day, like a feather,
Would care much less, if it were the weather.
Some picture perfect, will finally find,
Again a place, in your hope and mind.

You will hold it dear, like a treasure,
Would sit in peace, in its pleasure.
Some thunder under, will gently die,
With helping hands, that’ll hold your sky.

You will reap some day, with how you measure,
At last the comfort, at last at leisure.
Some princess, that in stories grew,
Will come on you, like you always knew.

You will fly some day, like a feather,
Would care much less, if it were the weather.
Some moment perfect, will then turn you blind,
Forever to the cellar door, you have shut behind.

We will some day, not see then after,
The pain in her eyes, the sunken laughter.
The colours will then, spill-in right,
Places those were left, too pale, and too white.

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