A woman’s

hand, no matter

how much

it might

resemble a

dove,

isn’t one.

Seeing it as a

dove is

something

poets and

others who

romanticize

reality do.

And while

that can

be a lovely

way of looking

at life, it’s also

a dangerous

thing too —

especially when

that “dove”

flies

into your

wallet and

uses the

leaves

it finds

there

to fortify

a nest

in an

unromantic

heart.

 

— Fyodor Bukowski

 

 

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