A Dove

A Dove, soft and grey, walking unafraid in a garden of cats.

A Black bird perched on a tree, watching the world from above.

A second dove flew down and sat with the first, beaks touching, cooing softly.

I was the Dove, and the blackbird.

To find the Second dove, to touch, but with minds, bodies and souls would be magical.

But, I have found that a Dove can fly alone and be ok.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2023
About this poem:
Watching the garden outside, eating ice-cream and wondering why I am back.
But kind of happy to be back.

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Comments (1)

weemick1960online now!
As always sweetheart, you know how to draw in the reader to the heart of your thoughts. I wondered myself why I came back here. For me, I think, it was because I had some of the best times of my life on this poetry corner, this little piece of Heaven, where I shared thoughts of love. You still know how to sing so gently. Have a wonderful evening. Hugs always ..... Michael. XXX
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