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The Dove and the Raven
The lonely Raven with ink colored feathers sat perched on a tombstone all day.
It longed for companion, yet always abandoned, no one would dare come its way.
Until one day, sun high in the sky, a flash of white fell from above.
It landed just below the Raven’s tombstone, a fragile and injured Dove.
The Raven dropped down to inspect the poor thing, inquiring “Are you still alive?”
The Dove was weak, but managed to speak, “My friend, thank god you’ve arrived.”;
“I was shot down by some hunters, you see. Wing tattered, I can no longer fly.”;
“If you’d give me some aid, I’d certainly be saved, for if not I am surely to die.”
What was that – that the Raven had heard? What had the Dove called him again?
He almost couldn’t believe, did his ears deceive? The Dove had called him “My friend.”
Feeling elated, the Raven agreed, and tended to the Dove day and night.
He patched up the Dove with care and with love, and carried her all through her blight.
While she recovered, he’d stay by her side and they’d talk about all manner of things.
They soon grew so close, but the Raven knew most, what the Dove’s good health would soon bring.
“Can you promise me that you’ll stay by my side? My one and only true friend?”
The Dove gave a smile and laughed for a while. “Of course, my friend. Till the end.”
But as time passed and her injuries healed, soon the Dove was strong enough to fly.
The Raven begged her to stay, but she’d bat him away. “It’s my nature to be up in the sky.”
Fury coursed through the Raven, he lunged and he snapped, talons digging into her wings.
He clawed and he ripped, and again her wings snipped, the Dove plummeted down with a scream.
“You promised!” He cried, looming above as she looked up at him in sheer horror.
“You promised!” He cried, “To stay by my side!” And after all he had done to restore her!
He landed beside her and spread out his wings to embrace his white tortured friend.
“You’ll stay with me?” He asked. She agreed, whimpering, “Of course, my friend. Till the end.”
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