Doves In The Attic Poem by Berta Vieira

The doves in the attic,
I watch them fly.
The doves in the attic,
I hear them cry.

Walls and floor painted white,
soaring, circling the doves take flight.
Curtains of lace blow in the wind,
the gentle breeze warms me within.

The doves in the attic,
I watch them fly.
The doves in the attic,
I hear them cry.

The sun shines through the open pane,
I fear these doves all cry in vain.
Nests half empty, the young do cry,
I pick them up for fear they'll die.

The doves in the attic,
I watch them fly.
The doves in the attic,
I hear them cry.

I walk as if I'm in a daze,
The room filled with a sudden haze.
I try to sort
this awful craze.

The doves in the attic,
I watch them fly.
The doves in the attic,
I hear them cry.