Liberated
into the haven
of a mausoleum
lies a dove deceived-
its tattered pinions
a reminder of
a pledge riven,
a reverie tainted,
an innocence
betrayed.
Save her.
Let the shadows
of her present
console with
saccharine lies,
warm her with
tinned caresses
of boughs
freshly severed-
a revival of
splintered promises
of a new day–
as verdant hues
decay to dust.
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Categories: All Poetry, Life & Love, Poetry by Phoebe
Beautiful.
This poem rings like the tolling of a bell in the distant ears of the dying.
Beautiful in the extreme. Chris.