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A cozy little branch,
of brambled splintered wood,
Two turtle doves met,
each with a lover,
to be with one another,
they never could.
Her black beady eyes spotted his wound,
She tended to it,
even though he refused.
He had a lover waiting back at the nest for him,
and his heart ached to see her again,
She told him it would take a day to heal,
He was not amused.
She hummed to herself as she cared for him,
through the day,
and through the night,
Never did she take flight,
and leave him there alone.
And alas his heart tore to pieces,
for he loved his dove back at home,
but now he cared for the dove,
who cared for him on that day.
But never once did he say,
thank you to her,
he just flew away without a word,
And there she sat,
just a sad little bird.
Even though she had been tending his wound,
healing him,
she ending up throwing salt on her own wound.
because she ended up loving him too.
So through spring,
through summer,
through fall,
through winter,
she sat,
waiting for her love to return.
Each day,
her heart began to fade away.
Until one day she spotted him,
protecting his nest from a cat,
Before she could think,
She no longer sat.
As the cat opened it's jaws to swallow him whole,
She flew in front,
Clawing the cat's eyes out,
Shielding him from the deadly blow.
The cat swiped blindly,
and knocked her down,
She fell down into a crumpled heap,
not once did she weep.
For she could finally see the bird she loved,
her heart swelled with bliss,
she knew it was him she dearly missed,
He landed down beside her feet,
and large tears spilled down his face,
he began to weep.
His wings held her tiny head,
"Why aren't you sad?", He whispered.
"Because, how can I be sad? Now that I'm in your wings again."
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