Fly, fly,
conquer the sky
that lies so high, so very high
above you
in its deep, complete and never-ending blue.

Fly, fly,
please dont rest,
dont stop for breath
'cause it would be your death
and so mine too
so fly on, please do.

Fly, fly,
'til you know
you're there where all flowers grow
you're there where I am waiting
for you and where the sun is fading
and making black out of the sky's blue.

Fly, fly,
to the tree
where I raise my eyes to see
your fluttering wings prepare for landing
on this branch where I am standing
and digging my claws into
feeling the excitement at the prospect of seeing you.

Now your warm and gentle feathers
surround me like a tender cloud
and I just want to croak it out
that I will love you forever
and that I will never
let you fly away again
'cause you're my little man.

... So there are a white and a black dove
sitting next to each other on a tree at Central Park
celebrating Birdie Love
until it's getting dark.

by Janis Purucker, 2000