The Turtle Dove
Looked at me through
Condemning eyes,
His mouth cooed a legend,
A simple yet haunting cry,
Of a frail hope.
The tenderness of his
Breast lasted but a moment,
A passing legend.
Iron breasted
Iron winged
Beats an
Updraft so frigid.
Gone are the days
Of compassion and mercy
It is too late
Too late
I can no longer
Hear your cry.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.06 seconds at 10:04pm on Nov 21, 2024 via server WEBX1.