A Death Called Dove

“What a short time I had been given to experience love. I felt as my life had only recently begun and now it would surely end at sunrise.”
― Meredith Taylor

sweetesttootsieroll

Found then a little dove cowering in the birth of new

A blade came near and scant to miss

only a hairs breath relinquishing bliss

Flying before her time with wind both a friend and foe

Thinking to see, her wings grow tired

Blind fear rushes never more inspired

A shy grasp at what becomes a mysterious fateful lore

Trying but giving away the hidden life

Reduced to nothing and shut in by strife

Again the hungry clock stood its watch over gentle dove

Only to alight were she would never to fly

Wings fail to carry her to comforting sky

Talented feathery quills of reaching passion stoned to silence

Will giving her gifts to the clouds that call

Only create little pieces in the memory of all

Just dreams of doves laying torn in dawns fading embrace

O fragile dove you’ll ne’er see forever pain

Walking in silence ’cause your wings are maimed

Also published in Broowaha Citizen’s Magazine

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