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The Dove Flies

Author: Leopard
Type: Poems
Rating: Moderate
Status: Complete
Preceding: Sonnet II
Succeeding: In This Place



Iambic pentameter is hard. A Shakespearean sonnet. An attempt was made.


I'll trace a pattern along your cold wrist
To try and warm your skin, your bones, your heart
And yet it lingers, hard in your cold fist
I'll hold your pieces, you won't fall apart
My dear, please do not slip through my fingers
I could not bear it if you were to die
I'd give it all to know your soul lingers
I fear that I am losing you in sky
But now away you go to try and fly
My dove will ne'er look on the light again
Now I cannot again watch you soar high
My love for you is gone alike your chain
Here I will stay, doomed to always remain
My love for you looks out on time's vast plain

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