It's the season of the hearts and it's not february,
A time of the year when strange roads bring fond memories.
My dreams are thrown into the air ,
and i see them becoming doves,
spreading their wings and flying away.
Far away they have flown,facing storm and thunder.
Yet pure in spirits and as energetic as an eel,
they continue because i feel.
My doves are flying,flying much higher,
Teasing and denying my meek existence.
They are flamboyantly beautiful,tell me how
Are they so, because they are mine.
I beckon them lovingly to be my present.
But they are my dreams,my future...
Time has been kind to me,taught me patience.
I thank thee time,
For finally bringing the calmness within,
For bringing my love back,
For the gift of old friendship
and for blessing all those dreams.
My Dove fluttering it's wings,
has finally come to me,
has come to me.
-P.S-To my dream which came back where it belonged -
