chained inside.
you made it fly
for another day
la paloma blanca
it flies to green fields
of hope and release
trying to find you
over bridges across
the morning river,
roofs glimmering
in flowing light
this white dove,
chained at night,
feels its heart,
the sky, in flight
my paloma blanca
come rest on my hand,
lean your head
against my shoulder
we are the same,
two of a kind,
to rest and to fly,
to live and to die
