Pigeons and their friend...

Outside the wrought iron framework of my window…
Have I seen, scrapped off walls and amongst them glow…

Forms of unraveling nature’s mystery of life…
Storms of dirt come and kill the husband, spare his wife…
And on occasional movement, underneath her you can see…
A white universe through whose orifice someone’s struggling to break free…

And now, when I am able to write a flowing line…
I recall how they’ve seen me growing, how they’ve been only mine..
For no-one till now has ever spoken of them outlaws…
Of their shabby feathers, their harmless investigation and claws…

Outside the wrought iron framework of my window has it been…
Years have gone by
And I’ve seen them fly
Into the turquoise cottage
Covered with nature’s temporal green…

The End.(on the tenth august day of 2002)