LOST DOVE

where's the mourning dove call?
it flies home and the door to touch is gone.
'twas left staring at the jeweled blue tail of  the night's comet
with the promise that daybreaks will always bring silence
in facing the longing beneath the rose petals in soft pink and quilted green
thus, create rhythm to the soul.

but weeks after weeks
night will come back again; and
again, the mourning dove will dwell in the morning
ferreting through the glistening fogs
teasing its nose from the petals
furrowing in the words to come back in the palm; and
listening over each heartbeat of the hands that hold thy
for it will be resting there -
forever
waiting.

freefall's note: people are so amazing. sometimes, they never really learn.