The dove

So warm the feeling
of sunlight on the clearing
and the moon is nearing
its' zenith

How do we fare
Do we make a good pair
Can we prepare
to go with

each other Why does the heart ache
and always great pains make
Why does it take
away my wits

So lonely our lives apart
Will we ever embark
with a pure bright spark
to merit

Boldly the dove flys
in to the cold sky
never wondering why
so white it is