Neither shall I kiss you!
Such feathered affection
Whispers to my beauty
Touching skin and hair
But should my mind turn vibrant
Shall beat its wings
And fly elsewhere.
Nor shall I miss you!
Such hovering over my heart
When it refuses to flutter or sing
For many a vulture and peacock
Have yet to come my way
Though my nightingale's song shall only be sung
For the dove who means to stay.
(January 1982)
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