The Dove that dove into the bushes.

Once I saw a little dove
whose wings were made from rainbow
colours, with a heart as calm
as the Psalmist’s still waters
and gentle like a wolf’s cub.
Its eyes had seem to call my name,
But my silence was too loud.

Twice I saw two little doves
while kissing, they hugged and touched.
With love as grass their nest was
made and kisses served as bed.
On days of birth and famine,
one of them will guard the eggs
while one goes in search of food.

Last night I saw the little
dove, but its wings had no more
rainbow colours. Its calm heart
was laden and filled with pain
for the loss of its soul mate.
The little dove, now depressed
and grown, dove into the bush.

Younglan Louis

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