Mournful Dove

Sadly singing in the morn,
she cries her sweet lament.
She calls to those
who roost nearby,
who listen
and hear
her song.

As do I listen,
but woe I cannot
construe a single notion,
as she coos and croons
her lovely tune
until I find her nigh.

On heavenly perch that is her own,
we exchange one glance we two,
before she goes to places unknown
taking wing and singing
adieu.