Hawks and Doves

In yonder fields where hawks and doves take flight,
There lies a tale of love's unending plight.
The hawk, with eyes afire, doth seek its prey,
While gentle dove in shadows doth delay.

The hawk, relentless, circles in the skies,
With talons sharp and piercing, hungry eyes.
He chases dreams that flit and fade away,
Unheeding of the dove's soft, mournful bray.

The dove, in purity, doth soar so free,
A symbol of a love that ne'er shall be.
She flies on wings of hope, yet ever spurned,
By hawk's fierce gaze, her gentle heart is turned.

For hawk pursues with fervor wild and vain,
A love that in his grasp shall ne'er remain.
And dove, though shy, doth ever seek to please,
Yet finds herself ensnared by hawk's unease.

Oh, foolish hearts, entwined in fruitless chase,
Where passion leads, but leaves no tender trace.
The hawk, relentless, never finds his peace,
While dove, in sorrow, pines for sweet release.

Thus, in the skies, their tragic dance doth play,
A testament to love's misguided sway.
For hawks and doves, though nature's opposites,
In love's cruel game, find naught but empty bits.

A pittance for the clairvoyant and the wise,
To seek a love where harmony doth rise.
For hawk and dove, in endless, futile flight,
Show love's true path lies not in forceful might.