Lesbian Poetry

The Windowsill

Just there, upon the windowsill
Sits a little dove.
She comes to me now and again
Cooing songs of love.

So quietly does she walk the
Ledge and peer into my soul,
Whispering peaceful melodies;
Notes of wisdom that she knows.

Such elegance within her flight
As she leaves and comes again.
Taking my mind to dreams
Of youth and freedom fleeting whims.

I yearn to tell her how I feel,
All that she means to me;
That in her eyes I see
The truths of Nature stunning beauty.

The windowsill is where I rest
My weary loneliness;
To share my thoughts with this small dove
In whose presence I am blessed.