Breathe, pause, and smile
notice the dove that would rather walk
than to be carried the extra mile
Even with the wings of stone
it drags behind, it strays aloft
with it’s ever swelling pride
White winds could indicate the passing of seasons
From summer till fall, preparations are made by all else
whilst the dove develops an eager eye
Breathe, pause, and smile
The dove turns around to
walk the lesser mile
Striving to clear the hump it’s in,
it races with time even
with no chance to win
Clear skies indicate the passing of winter to spring
As the trees form new leaves and all else returns,
the dove’s race begins all over again
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