Letters To A Dove
Tea rose your lips
Ashen is mine
Cradling a blue flame
Your ether and dime
Linger in the lines
Of clean desire
Nonchalant of their
Green doe-eyes
From the innocuous
Absent stare of mine
Foreboding treachery
Unfaithful child,
Serendipity is
Away tonight -
Moon and sleep away
With the letters
Sent to a dove
Futilely, we malinger
For the light of demise.
poem by Norman Santos
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