The Dove

The dove sits on the bit of roof
That I see through the glass
It oversees a land of green
Of flora and of grass
Inquisitive, the grey dove looks
Gazing back at me
He stands his ground
And with no sound
He says please let me be

So I look with a still gaze
Arms firmly by my side
He glances back to moss and bark
With a sense of peace of mind

But then like dawn the silence breaks
Next door’s dog barks sharp and clear
The dove sets off to lands afar
He’s gone, the overseer.

One thought on “The Dove

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