The Dove


I saw a morning dove fly away,
and with it went my soul.
It's feathers tussled and shaken,
I stood waiting to be awoken.

The morning was a stagnant chill,
and with it froze my eyes
and with it froze my tears,
Cold and blind I stood still.

A deafening sound sprang through the hills,
the silence penetrated my mind.
The rumble shook my ears,
then all was calm in the young gray.

It was slipping into the distance,
I saw the dove make haste.
To another land, another sea,
others for it to play.

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