Doves of a dying rainbow

In the quietness of early dawn where mourning doves parade... they somehow see right through what's gone; my cloudy gray charade . A rainbows seed of fire was all I had to sow; but darkness squelches movement of that concrete rivers flow. . I've built a wall of silence (and my deafness comforts this,) now words and phrase and poetry have become a subtle kiss . With the sunshine 'ore your shoulder and a mistiness ahead; the colors of THAT rainbow only melt across the dead... . ...which entices me to deepen still this solitude I'm in, and go below a place I know; where the doves will never win.