The Echo of a Lost Wing

It was a sigh, a quiver of pure life,
A feathered dream, in endless skies so bright.
Promise of far shores, a timeless flight,
But a weary hand let it fall from sight.
It does not fade away, nor perish to the ground,
An echo stays behind, a silent, muted sound.
An unseen beating, like a whispered breath,
That grazes the deep soul, defying death.
It is a gentle shade that still takes wing,
In hearts that listen, feel, and softly sing.
A distant murmur of the life unseen,
The endless beating of a wing between.