The Pale Dove
poem by:
Clinton Strong
Written
on Jan 18, 2016
On days before, the blood rained down. Foretold decrees, had finally run aground. With blackened wings, on an endless night, the pale dove took flight. On days before, the flood came down. Untold degrees, walked across the ground. With memories held, inside blinded sight, we sailed into the night.
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Purple Couch commented:
This is a wonderful poem. This is the type of poetry we are looking for for our next publication. if you are interested in having this poem published please check out our future projects. http://www.purplecouchpublishing.com/#!future-projects/utwgq
Christopher Russon
commented:
Lovely poem.
