I image myself widowed now
No love or affection shoots to me
No quick merits of wittiness fall to me
Only a shadow creeps these empty halls

A showy prize once polished now collects dust
As the shadow searches for something else to ignore
The shadow hides themselves in a fog like a blanket and disappears behind it

Sometimes I hear the call of a pearly dove outside a window
Beckoning for me to release my own wings and fly free with it
I have to tell the bird otherwise saying,” I have my own freedom here to love, a ring”
My freedom feels heavy on my wing

The dove lays dead on my porch attacked by some creature
Silly dove, to chase after uncertain dreams
Wouldn’t it be better to live captured but see?
The dove doesn’t respond and neither does the shadow

I place the dove in a shoebox and leave him in my closet with my ring
I decide it’s better to reflect and choose than to be uncertain or see