warm yourself by the fire






"Death Of A Dove"


Clipped of its energy
Stripped of its clarity
Spiraling downwardly
Exstinguishing inwardly
Oh, where has the winged one gone

So robbed of its silent song
Tonight the air speaks in outrage
With thunderous slaps of each torn page
Distant cries of wings gone cold
have left storytelling trees abandoned

Now moonlight traces the trail
of this comet-like sorrow ablaze
Such quick loss of its sustaining love
Approaching finality...
The quick death of a dove



written by R. Russell © 1997