The Dove

I used to fly, now I rain. My wings are on my chest. Do I feel the same?

When will I rest? It is God's test. He knows best.

My rain is in the clouds. The clouds filter my pain…

The clouds are gray, then my shadow moves away.

I feel free. I feel light and I feel no fright….

An angel sings and I open my wings.

For the angel, I expose my chest,

Allowing the dove to leave its nest.

IN MEMORY OF NANCY JEAN MAHAN "MUM"