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.



About beloveddreamer486

I am a poet and and an artist.
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