Old Grey Dove

The old grey dove
Sits alone,
Quietly cooing to himself
As dawn
Begins to break.
Then,
As the early morning sun
Peeps
Over the old town,
He hovers slowly down
To find
What morsels the night has left behind.
Soon there are many,
Scavenging
For what they can find.
To frail to fight,
He's happy
With those few crumbs he's found,
Not so long ago
He would have fought savagely
To feed his broods.
But
He dances love no more,
Contently
Taking each day as it comes.
And
When the sun
Sets over the rooftops
He roosts again,
Thinking only
Of his moment in time.

TjHatton.        06/04/13.