Oh, gentle dove which is my heart,
fly not to summer's bittersweet remembrance
lest my ribs which doth protect thee,
shatter with earthquakes of sobbing.
Oh, dear dove,
thou art but a fragile freedom
whose wings doth soar on the winds of love.
But when the winds doth cease,
Nothing stops thy plummeting fall.
Why didst we love the torrents
of pain?
Whose sparrow-like frame did
Shake with memories of loss and
war.
Fly not now, my sweet little dove,
summer's remembrance is still a bittersweet cruelty.
-
Author:
Shadowbox15 (
Offline) - Published: November 14th, 2017 11:16
- Comment from author about the poem: I still tell my heart to forget him.
- Category: Love
- Views: 21
- Users favorite of this poem: angelinamc101, Accidental Poet
Offline)
Comments2
Wow this is so beautifully written.
Thank you! I’m glad that you enjoyed it.
Beautifully written dialog with your heart. May your heart flourish in future endeavors.
Chirp chirp!
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