She was but a newly wounded bird
with the thought of flight in her heart.
He was but a dove new to the deep blue sky.
She was mesmerizing but kept her distance.
He, not being wise, fell in love.
They were happy in blissful confusion for
their flights took them in different directions.
They lost each other in a deep storm,
never to fly with each other again.
The wounded bird still mesmerizing others;
the dove... now a hawk, preens his feathers.
Painting by: Lempicka
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