All in a flight,
with words that sting,
she is so dressed,
she does desist,
in summer shoes,
in summers dress.
Honorably then 
to so nobly refrain
before this coveted wing,
to reach the height
in this fawn yet frail scape.

This course has chases,
has paths well seen.
In its pale breath swells
our longing beats
as it revels
in what we can share and may be
and how we
weave
it all along with the chime of bells 
to lose the cold of chill sleets.

In each a spark,
a sparse reminder
always there,
would we to saunter in the lark,
to feign,
to now embark
and know
the lust left now
of one another
and an once to be so serene.

All in a flight,
she is to hale,
she does insist,
me to impale.
To her I sing
from dark hooded cape,
but neath this wing,
tis our escape.

This is a course,
a path well seen,
the finale paints
in feathers mien,
where she once was and we have been,
and now to believe it is beneath the silk of warm sheets.

So good to see that you are well,
and the hope tomorrow holds,
the dark clouds huddled
have no way to dispel.
The song of doves will help you there
and in its folds
you'll see I care.