The Mourning Dove

Tis a sad tale with a mourning dove.
It mourned and still arose.
Arise with love
Like a wild rose.
The old saying goes.
For it is better to loose then love naught.
It is hard to hide love, it shows.
Love is like a beauty spot.
Forbidden love that's hard.
Love should never be forbidden.
It can feel like a prism, barred.
Can never control once smitten..
Smitten with that drive.
That drives heroes.
When smitten they will thrive.
They will conquer all foes.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem