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THE CRYING DOVE : SONNET 102

You came and left, if life you found in me
Too waste a place to host your saintly sojourn;
Howe'er long will this Jacobin's wait be
Ere you return, ere your showers return?
But I shall wait -- till my life does depart --
With sin of filicide of the mourning dove,
Like in her mourns as she tears her chest 'part,
Bangs her head for killing her own love,
That I do cry -- eyes dry, heart aching, hope wither'd,
As luck is lost with Coockie by an unfair take;
All nests are full of cheers, so is each bird,
But razed's my nest, unquench'd my thirsty beak 
Held up open ever for your ingress,
Oh my daughter, my only blood and flesh !

-- N P SAMAL 

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