Sir Galahad the Dove

White dove sitting in a cage
Trusting not the flimsy walls
But instead, the loving calls
And care of its dear master.

White dove glistens in bright sun
Fresh air wafting through cage bars
Darling dove-love coos for hours
With calls for gentle master.

Pass’s the hour of his return
Patient heart ‘neath feathered breast
Master soon would end his quest
And come back all the faster.

White dove sleeps at setted sun
Bobwhite warns of coming harm
Passed the threshold of the home
And where forgetful master?

Unsafe cage, Sir Galahad!
Scent of pole-cat all around,
Tattered feathers on the ground
Await return of master.


© 2014 Melinda Ashley of HVA III


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