Broken wings and ****** feathers the grey dove tries to fly once more It feels as if it's being pulled in one direction And being unable to follow the leash It watches forlornly as the others around it the ones who had been broken by the same thing take flight renewed refreshed ready but the little grey dove isn't so sure if she's ready to take flight anymore She's not sure who's fault it was. The cat who broke her wings and threw her? Or was it herself, for letting him do it? The little grey dove is waiting instead of doing She knows that time can heal her wounds. But perhaps the bone is broken too far up. Perhaps she'll never fly again. No one comes to keep her company through out the months she's made a small refuge, a place to sleep a place to heal But every once in a while A newly white dove comes by with a bent feather of her friends evidence that the cat is still out there While she sits and heals and does nothing.