In essence of a dove

Secrets those theirs small in size
While Summer slightly sings in singleness
Softly so says nature's guise
On wings of sender sound swept sentences
With eyes so precious she constructed a nest
Sighting on her selected slats
Seasoned straw said Jesus blessed

Silences Smidgeon shaft
Her saucer or sixteen branches slender
Her talents set sideways center
Sashes of Windows makeshift a singular
Circle shavings cursive messenger
Soon she laughs her lasting dramatic
Perfectionism plays sweet pillows shallow
Cease in stride pretty prose ecstatic
She sighs at last silhouetted by silo
She says and plays spent stilled at sunsets so
Allows herself to softly sleepy
Above while glancing show angels staring knows
Tis hers that beats a love so pleasing

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