Light as a feather

I have my own heartbreak and shellshake. Dirtied by demons and devils, my feather floating down from high, into all the wrong hands. Harassed, I hurry on.
Up to a  steeper spire, through a ramble of forest, a ticket of thorns. A ray of light, kept inside, until I can see for the trees. Catch me if you can, I won’t be here long. Simply taking a soft, gentle hug, I will fly with the wind, before we both bleed.


About CT

Claire Townsend is a freelance costume designer/maker and theatre practitioner.
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