Sympathy For The Dove

At the top of the bookshelf sits the soul of a trapped man. Embraced by many and understood by few, if any, he waits with the patience of a hawk. At times an entire day, if not two, pass without even a glimpse of that glorious sunlight that fuels his hope.

There he sits, knowing the worth of the wait. Holding the struggle tight to his chest, memories coursing through his veins like the swelling of his groin when bathing in the rays. On his perch he contemplates, briefly, other thoughts and questions... Then, just as quickly, banishes them to be with the doves.

There is no chance for surrender.

© 2009 Lee Greenfeld