Breadcrumbs

Pieces of peace.

Like, like love. 

Theses words float like doves, 

the horizon billows, 

and the clouds like pillows, 

and arms that wave above 

I see thee with white feather, 

and lo that cotton tender, 

they waste away, 

and roots decay, 

the dove that flies through ether. 

Come dove, come, 

fetch me my sheath, 

I come in peace, 

Nay say the yeast, the bread shall be low, 

and go not go, 

stay with me, 

all and all, 

Whiten the gall,

please dove do thy peace.