Our Man in Europe, now Belize: "The Wings of a Dove."
WE DIED BEFORE, so many years ago
We died somehow, wailing
hand in hand.
Somehow, we died.
An-inherent in our plans
yet we DIED, that kiss
that hand in hand.
WE DIED in a Song
the one we never knew.
We passed-away
Love's sway,
a Mississippi Blues?
Still, we died in that labyrinth,
an intoxicated coil
OILED by differentials,
a Society to despoil.
We died in Yesterday's-Tomorrow
a Song upon the cusp.
the sweetest kiss, your breasts a-cup
the ecstasy of NOW - but GONE!!!
And though we died, the WORLD
still fried into our burning cup.
Yet we died, yet survived
in the ashes of our Love;
there goes star-crossed Lovers
and does anybody see bird's wings
flying noiselessly into the sky?
Nope? Me neither!
They just pass on by.
The wings of a Dove.
c.dave, 2025. Dave Delacroix.
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