Feed the Dove

Do you love her?

Then, let her go

When her wings flutter

And she turns away

But keep some food

Snug in your pocket

Beside a snot rag

And a stick of gum

Just in case if ever

For if she returns

Tired from her flight

She will want to eat

Everything you have

From your open palm

Published by Michael Sean Erickson

I write, act, and produce films in Los Angeles. Everything else is conjecture.

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