Aging Dove – Poem #52

Her call is growing weak
and her wings are turning gray
Where will she go
the aging dove of peace?

Young kites and crows laugh
knowing that her time has passed
while she sings in delusion
that anyone is listening.

Will an old lover
indulge her aging passion?
or a sweet young girl
grind her favorite seed to eat?

Perhaps  a sympathetic tree
will grant her a lowly branch
to sit where the neighbors
don’t know about her past.

Or grandma’s window sill
with it’s potted plants,
where she can sing at funerals
mourning her friends.


About toritto

I was born during year four of the reign of Emperor Tiberius Claudius on the outskirts of the empire in Brooklyn. I married my high school sweetheart, the girl I took to the prom and we were together for forty years until her passing in 2004. We had four kids together and buried two together. I had a successful career in Corporate America (never got rich but made a living) and traveled the world. I am currently retired in the Tampa Bay metro area and live alone. One of my daughters is close by and one within a morning’s drive. They call their pops everyday. I try to write poetry (not very well), and about family. Occasionally I will try a historical piece relating to politics. :-)
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3 Responses to Aging Dove – Poem #52

  1. jfwknifton says:

    It is actually a symbol that you never see around the place any more.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Mukhamani says:

    We have to pray that her descendants will always be where human beings are.
    Thank you for a beautiful poem. Regards

    Liked by 1 person

  3. beetleypete says:

    You got that right, Frank. As John says, what even happened to the symbol?
    Best wishes, Pete.

    Liked by 1 person

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