Dove Was Her Name

Dove was her name

Her lungs are filled with unending strength, to the trees and flowers she sang songs of spring and summer. She coos and she howls tweets and whistles.

But no one knew of the many songs that where given into the wind, all in hopes of someone hearing her sing, for someone to truly understand her and Dove was her name.

Feeling like she missed her timing to migrate, in a tired desperate flight she unfolds, trying to reach everyone but different paths they were told. Realizing her wings were broken, crashing down into the ground she collided, as did her world.

Harsh winter snaps and devastating summers she endured.  A bare tree is all she could find, wrecked and devastated she sat there, hope faded, all while her wings healed. Who would've thought that even in death change can happen? Life I say! Life can happen and Dove was her name.

The fear of dying with the tree was the fear that gripped her. She knew that she could not stay the same, so she had to fly away. For she knew it was time; time to return to soaring above the clouds. With a leap of faith she launched from death and decay, for that was the branches name.

But unexpectedly, from the heavens, or so it seemed, blew a mighty wind. Hesitantly, anxiously, I say desperately! Feelings where mustered, I say strength was found. She launched off and she glided, and soared into the clouds.

Caught in the gust of this heavenly wind, she remembered she was meant to soar, to once again sing songs of spring, summer and more. Dove was her name.