About the Dove

his is a widely published, true story of one day in an eternity of grief.














About The Dove



I've written much about Noelle

Shamelessly bared my very soul

Epodes of sorrow, epoch in Hell

Each one a grievous episode . . .

But I forgot to tell you about the dove



Abyysmal pain her leaving caused

With searing hurt and nights insane

A man oblivious to laws

A driving drunk, a country lane . . .

But I must tell you about the dove



My son it was, I think, that day

While walking home from work

Perchanced to see it as it lay

And stooped to pick it up . . .

Within his hands, a sculptured dove



It was the day I chose her stone

Inscribing it with all my love

The granite, stately, stood alone

It's face imprinted with a dove . . .

Holding a rose dripping a tear



My son walked slowly up the road

With wonder written on his face

And mutely handed me a rose

Exactly like the one I'd placed . . .

Upon the tombstone of her grave