His Own Dove

What was gone,
And thought undone,
Now returns to life,
With no more strife.

His sorrow has fled.
And visits not his bed
While he dreams.
And his smile beams.

He who hath be broken is now anew.
He worked with blood, bone, and sinew.
No tears hath he to cry,
For love now beholds his eye.

No shadow cross his path
For they fear his vengeful wrath,
Toward any who stray him from his love,
His very own special dove.