Wisha (Ode to a Pigeon)

I called you fat.

I mean it in the nicest way possible.

Ample, snug and ready to hug.

You perched on the fence

Your claws facing out like a chubby ballerina

Ready to take flight.

The comforting sound of

‘Who who who’

More of a statement than a question.

That sound has followed me from country to country

From dense city to sparse landscape.

The universal language of Pigeon.

You’ve even made it to Hollywood.

You’ve done good friend. Well.

You don’t normally perch here though.

I haven’t seen you before.

And just as I am getting used to you

You take off with a :

‘Wisha wisha wisha’

I wisha.

I wish I could be you.

(c) Slumpless

 

 

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