Her delicate hand holds a snow white dove
Captive and yet still free
As her grip is as light as the air he breathes
Flying over his sparkling seas

By her lovely side he sits for hours on end
Never moving a single feather
Happily content to be held in her delicate hand
Through even the stormiest weather

One could easily ask how such a wild creature
In captivity, could be so at ease
With wings that could take him to places unknown
On the simplest touch of a breeze

Perhaps his contentment lies in the knowledge
That he is always free to fly away
Knowing that the delicate hand that holds him captive
Will continue to love him anyway