Pigeons are the final wild birds of the city
Smudged by soot from diesel engines
Waiting for crumbs from someone's hand
They become scenery on the square
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Wow- - -What a marvelous poem it is- - - - Pigeons are the final wild birds of the city Smudged by soot from diesel engines Waiting for crumbs from someone's hand They become scenery on the square - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ____________________________________- But some are tied in knots by their own desires Like birds they peck for breadcrumbs of affection - - - - - - - - - - - - - Breadcrumbs of affection , nice imagery.Thanks for sharing.
Where does one go to find a reader like you? Such an understanding heart cannot be intentionally sought out but can only be encountered. Thanks for seeing charm in my crumb-like phrases.
wondered I'm here the pigeon; the final wild bird but of the city............/// its really beautiful poem