The Turtle Dove
Looked at me through
Condemning eyes,
His mouth cooed a legend,
A simple yet haunting cry,
Of a frail hope.
The tenderness of his
Breast lasted but a moment,
A passing legend.
Iron breasted
Iron winged
Beats an
Updraft so frigid.
Gone are the days
Of compassion and mercy
It is too late
Too late
I can no longer
Hear your cry.
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