The Tainted Dove Poem by Philip Martin

She longs to touch the farthest lands,
The ice-capped tops, the salt-soaked sands.
Her longing makes him better fare
To know her craving brown eyes bear
The image of their meeting there:
The image of her love.

He aches to feel her warm embrace,
Her perfect form, her soft silk lace.
His aching loins make warm her heart
Her eyes grow red-raw, teardrops start.
In life they'll always be apart:
In life tears fall for love.

And so an age she'll trudge the depths of time
This husbands lowly concubine.
Times shared by she - though in true love -
Be blighted: Sweet this tainted dove
Will wait 'til death to meet above
She prays, 'May death bring love.'