cold breeze of spring

by walterdoege

as its known, doves don’t sing, but moan…I listen the doves chatting with each other…stay for a while over the roofs and trees…I see they flying out to unknown somewhere…at rainny days the doves stay upon the roofs, inhabiting corners to reach some shelter…they don’t build nests nor sing joyous songs, but moan…loyal compannions!…I like to sing, but my love songs are love moanings…