
Molting Bird
It must have been
a stormy night
when love flew out the window
of my vacant room
like a feather
from a molting bird.
Strange that I cannot remember
thunder or wind—
no howling or moaning,
no crashing at all
just the lightness of my plumage
and a silence
knowing a fine new feather
shall take its place.
© Neetu Malik
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More info →A Slice of Orange is an affiliate with some of the booksellers listed on this website, including Barnes & Nobel, Books A Million, iBooks, Kobo, and Smashwords. This means A Slice of Orange may earn a small advertising fee from sales made through the links used on this website. There are reminders of these affiliate links on the pages for individual books.
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