The Dove
I heard just today
the sweet plaintive song
of the mourning dove.
Out my window I spy his soft gray white form
sitting lonely in the old oak tree
he sing a melody of gentle sighs
that speaks of love so true.
There is a sadness in his quiet voice
as call he must his mate
soft and low his honeyed coos
fills the damp still air.
In rain and chill sing he must
and find his one true love
to build a nest to share for life
or once again fly away
his sad song to sing.
There is a beautiful intimacy in this poem..a sad song is better than no song maybe? And thank you for following..
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