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The Morning Dove


Poet Smith

As I walked along the dewy path

In the cool pale light of dawn,

The night’s last stars winked westward,

Once, twice, then gone.

God’s fall carpet underfoot,

His silent boughs above,

The distant cry of unseen geese,

The soft cooing of a dove.

I paused - listening and waiting,

For an answer to descend,

But lone dove’s call was silent met,

Not by lover, nor by friend.

I spied it alone as it sat,

Gray bird, upon gray limb;

It called once more then flew away

Into the mornings’ twilight dim.

Doves mate for life you see,

And then are never far apart,

For if one is lost the other lives,

Alone, with a tiny broken heart.

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