Cupid's dove flies overhead
While reflecting rainbows through it's wings
And as it flies through, clouds fled
As some softly scrape her feathers, like fingers to strings.

As the storm will scream and lash out with light
The dove won't hesitate nor halt
She will fly to the eye, where droplets ignite
And cure the weather's fault

On treetops she rests, to mend her broken wings
As her angel white is to adorn
And her beauty witnessed by all beings
As if a God, a baby reborn

And as it rests, it spreads so far
And sings to all who are tender
But sad did it do, my heart it scars
For sing to me, it will never