Get Rid Of The Advertisements

A bent, old man considered neither want nor need
while casting a disheveled pigeon a pinch of seed.

Rather, he recalled having read somewhere, awhile ago,
that pigeons could live a good ten years or so,

if socially nourished and kept well fed,
still in time their backs turned the color of lead.

Then he asked the aged fowl (as if it knew),
where everyone and all the time went to?

By ishmael

© 2019 ishmael (All rights reserved)


Read more poems by  ishmael
Send this poem to a friend
Read 3 viewers comment(s)

The Starlite Cafe Discussion Board | Home

Back to Previous Page