Uloia Norris Moore - Karen

He looked at none
was
blind to the
many.

He appreciated
just one.

His only wife perfect
to he yes a woman
a mother like many.

Perfection in his
eyes he thought
knew.

Insatiable
was the one
he did have.

His eyes are
still shut with
memories of the
women that it was
never he had
only she.

Never to be found
such a dove as
she loves her most
such cannot be a lie
locked with ring
no key tossed
aside.

Doves are for love
there purity blind
again to so have
thee wind carried
through the wings
to fly.

Freely flown on
old wing not
long in air
no place to
fly.

Mated were such
supposed
for life.

Uloia Norris Moore

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