The Dove
In the spring
Of spreading wings
he dove took flight
In dawns gentle light
And the roses celebrated
In joyous tears of dew
The stirring of the breeze
Playing in the colors
Of the rainbow,
In the summer
Of zenith flight
The dove soared high
Above The clouds
Drizzling caressing rain
Upon the blooming roses
Rejoicing in fragrant ecstasy
The passion
Of the flowering wind
Running in the moonlight,
In the autumn of descent
The dove was drenched
Amidst the scattering rain
And the rose wilted
In the twilight
Of the tempest,
In the winter
Of broken wings
The morning dove limped
In the midnight withering
The roses yearned
For the rays of the sun
And the moon
Was a sickle
Barely seen,
The heavy rain subsided
Into drizzle
The somber clouds
Were blown about
By changing winds
Forming clouds of changing shapes.
Copyright © Dawood Gabru | Year Posted 2015
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