The Dove

In the bright, sunny meadows there lives a tree.
Perched at the top, you can see
A lone dove, slowly making its nest.
Secluded, lonely, but doing it's best.

I defile you, your graceful form.
Tainting your purity so you can't perform.
I'm responsible for all of your dings
Because you're the dove, and I'm the dirt on your wings.

Flying strong, but path awry
All because of one spot on it's thigh
Throwing its course slightly off path.
The only imperfection that this dove hath.

You work so hard to stay aflight,
Twisting, turning, through the trough of twilight.
I poisoned a dove and the song that it sings
Because you're the dove, and I'm the dirt on your wings.

Scouting, it sees a pond not far from here.
The water reflective, crystal clear.
The perfect water with which to bathe,
To clean the dirt with a gentle wave.

The time has come. Please wash me away!
I've left you hurt and weak anyway.
I'll leave you now to the duty that's spring's
Because you're the dove, and I'm the dirt on your wings.