The Truth About Feathers

 Their original owners are many,
Some of them proud large individuals,
Others of the little and colourful,
Most of the common and dull to the bone,

How adventure begins is different for each,
Pulled of by strangers who are barely seen,
Accepted  for items of equal if not greater value,
Dropped for its lost of worth for the owner,

Feathers float slowly through the air,
Some will fall in rivers that flow fast,
Others land in trees so tall and old,
Most kiss the ground so humble,

Luck shall allow some to fly,
Misery may let them be muddied,
Admirers make them everlasting,
Nature allows them to rest in peace,

Time shall consume each of them,
Some will be remembered by photographs,
Others will be drawn by loving hands,
Most will be forgotten to no end,

Now little ones who are to leave,
The winds shall be rough as bears,
A far way it will be with no end,
Golden light shall join you for this,