The Tale of Little Dove

Take it real slow said they for Love is one precious gift
Come what may seek the Apples from the greener gardens they say
Little Dove fly away, fly away sings the heart
For the hearts are not bound by rules but blood!

Ashamed and broken at the end of the huge gardens lay the tiny tree
Still green and small, unknown and unsung...
Singing a broken poetry my Love for the tears are precious
They call upon my name everytime they are born

Wolves will pounce and hurt the beautiful feathers said He
But the far cry lost among the shouts
Why does she not fly... What could possibly come from chasing the winds
An apple that grows and turns Red will be forgotten
Wonder if the gardens are as green as they sound!

The silence in his gardens echoes the poems
Written at times the romance first took a step
At times the Moon knocked on the doors of his eyes
To see, hear and feel the Satin in white
At times when all it needed was an embrace
For the hearts engulfed in pain could speak no more!

A voice that calls from within,
Why do you trap the Dove in your ugly prison
For the little Dove is pure, unfit to stay in a dungeon
They will call you a Wolf for luring the Dove

Oh gardens he sings,
Let me drop dead before i turn Red
before i hear the words, before she hates
Forgotten and buried in the dust,
For the Wolves will tear her apart
If only the garden in the rear was greener...
If only the Sun showed some mercy...
Wouldn't the tree be green? and the apple Red?
For a tree is a tree no matter where it grows...

At teh end all that's needed was some sunshine...
To grow faster... so that he may sing fly high my love
lets meet up above, away from the gardens, for i am strong
tall and mighty, come rest on me!

If only the Sun shined above the last garden
The tale of the little dove would be a poem of joy