The White Dove Sings Poem by Patricia Kelley

I fear, my dear, the dove is winding down to no breath.
She feels a quick and ill death.
Her body aches and feels feverish; we all know this can be a sign of death.
The dove no longer has sweet words coming from her breath.
I fear her weakness is a sign of bitter death.
Her wings are growing weaker, and her voice is getting squeaker.
I fear for her.
Quick, my lord, give her breath!
Only you can save her from a quick sudden death.
Oh, look, my lord, she moves, she sings, death has no sting in her.
She's escaped death once more.
Oh, let her words pour!
We love to hear her.
She conquers death.