It is said that doves mate for life. Once their mate is dead they will not find another.
“Who's there?” cried the owl to the night air.
He asked impatiently, “I say again! Who's there?”
A stony silence, then a rustle from above.
“It is only I,” whispered the mourning dove.
“I have come seeking my one true love.
Have you seen him?” queried the dove.
“He went to the sunflower field today
and I fear my soul mate has lost his way.”
The owl indeed had seen her love pass
over the pine trees and across the grass.
“Oh, yes!” he cried, “Oh, yes indeed.
I tried to warn him, but he didn't heed.”
“The hunters were hiding waiting there
and they shot him down without a care.”
A silence fell as he told her his tale
and then at last a heart wrenching wail.
The owl saw her leave, she flew away
before a kind word he could utter or say.
Next morning he spied her as she flew
across the trees covered in morning dew.
A shot rang out not too long thereafter.
Then came the sound of cheerful laughter.
He bowed his solemn head in despair
for the loss of the dove and her beauty rare.
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