At the heart of the jungle

Was a water truce.

Several were gathered,

Everyone duly adhered

To the rule of harmony,

Cooperation and non-violence. 

 

Amongst many pigeons, 

Was a standout white dove. 

She was flawlessly beautiful, 

She was the epitome of love, 

She had many aligned admirers, 

But her eyes were set elsewhere. 

 

He was a traveller from far East, 

He had stopped by for water, 

Shelter, a rebound and a feast. 

He was heartbroken in the past, 

So, he wished for anything

But love, or words of affection.

 

The dove flew past her group, 

Ignoring every other admirer.

She made a beeline to him, 

And when he looked at her, 

He was swept away by her 

Beauty and confidence. 

 

They spoke a lot, 

About lifestyle, family, 

Friends, Costa Rica, 

And the Faroe Islands.

The conversation was

Mostly happy and happening.

 

Until the bond eased

And the topics matured.   

The dove couldn’t hold it,

She spoke to him of love.

That’s when the arctic tern

Took a resentful turn.

 

He flew far away,

Past the water truce,

Without a bid adieu,

To a place where love

Wouldn’t find him

Until he was ready for it.