Happening upon the soul of a dove
Whose mournful call fell on deaf ears
I clutched it in my hands; so light, so frail
Trying to soothe, to ease
Eyes, like cinder, feathers white as first frost
Tender heart trilling in a breast so fragile
I kissed its quivering wings, lightly
Trying to comfort, to calm
Fear, like a knife, stilled the beating heart
Eyes, like cinder, turned to ash
Warm life fading to cold death
Dying to be free of my refuge