The Feather

Love.
Love reminds me of that weird fluffy thing
In the air we all tried to catch as kids.
Some don't even see it.
Others see it, but think it is too out of reach,
So why bother?
The lucky few would catch it,
Peak to make sure it is there,
Then put it in a container to keep it forever.
And then there is the sad few.
And that is what I was.
The few who would try, and try, and try again till they got it.
Only to open their hands to find it gone.
He was the feather.
I opened my hands.
And now he is gone.