The Black Dove

The Black Dove,

By willjxn

There was a death that set this tell,

The day the father of them fell.

Leaving in his death two heirs,

A brother dark, a sister fair.

To the son went the estate,,

A giant house, to compensate.

Yet to his daughter, cottage small,

A garden were a dove did call.

The daughter saw her needs were met,

The son saw what he didn’t get.

Soon the son began to press,

“All  she has, I should  posses.”

The garden, cottage, little dove,

The sister gave him with her love.

“This world is but a testing place”,

His little sister spoke with grace.

I pray that with this gift to you,

True happiness will find you too.

And by these words she walked away,

A smile did her face display.

First, the cottage did he rent,

The garden, under turf it went.

The little dove he took with glee,

In guilded cage, his library.

The dove began to sing its song,

The son would sometimes hum along.

Her song of hospitality,

The cooing dove, did make him see,

He was not happy in his place,

Rancor in his heart took space.

The singing of the pure white dove,

Reminded him of sister’s love.

Then guilt swept in and turned him blue,

Dipped in paint, the dove turned too.

Her song took on a sadder reel,

Her melancholy, he did feel.

He took a paintbrush in his hand,

Dipped it green with envy grand.

The bird took on an emerald hue,

The garden in his memories grew..

Reminding him “ of her I lack,

To match my heart I’ll paint you black.”

On his ears her cawing fell,

The brother found himself in hell.

So to the door he took with rage,

Out tossed the crow from gilded cage.

With freedom came a thunder clap,

And with it rain, its pleasant tap.

Heaven’s tears, washed off the hue,

The dove restored to whiteness flue.

Into the heavens pulled each wing,

To land on sister’s hand and sing.

Looking down, a vision grand,

The dove it saw a gardened land.

There in the sun the sister new,

The cooing sound, her song it grew.

Then lighting on the sister’s hand,

The father’s gift came back to land.

So to the story, with its tell,

Comes truth to land, so learn it well.

The rightful heir of happiness,

Accepts the dove in all of us.

Selfishness, an enemy,

To the dove in you and me.

Before, we think to change the hue,

Of other’s souls to match our view.

We have to find a reason why,

To justify each colored lie.

And so our soul turns darker still,

In gilded cage the dove turns teal.

From blue to green and then dark black,

A crow of guilt will there attack.

Leaving you a wretched soul,

To your estate of hell you’ll go.

The dove of peace will heaven fly,

Left to live your cawing lie.