Hookie

As my eyes drifted from the proposal,

I caught Frank's eyes. 

He, too, was not paying attention.

My eyes continued to 

fall

to the arm of my blazer

where I noticed a white feather. 

I closed my eyes, 

for only a moment

and the scent of vanilla and mild lavender

rushed into my nostrils--

the smell of your pink t-shirt sheets.

The feather, 

from your down comforter, 

imbedded comfortably in my suit linen--

nowhere to go, nothing missed, and one of many.

Yet, one of a fortunate few

laying nestled next to your body--on top,

beneath, and surrounding you

on your deserved day out of work. 

Your feather was still there, 

where I opened my eyes

Lost in yet another presentation 

of suit culture.

I dropped my pen on the floor

and plucked the feather, 

as not to be seen. 

I spent the next twenty-minutes

holding my capped pen loosely in my right hand

and your feather

in my left hand

closely to my cheek.