Oh Hopeful Dove
An olive branch,
true and narrow;
honed into the perfect arrow.
Pierce thy side, oh hopeful dove;
hate, once again has out bid love.
In crimson pool, thy breath to cease;
this world, sweet dove, shall ne'er know peace.
But now thine soul has been set free,
where love and peace abound for thee.
Copyright © Arlene Smith | Year Posted 2017
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