A pigeon is but a stained dove-
An ideal darkened by the city's smoke,
By the lassitude of existence,
By a cruel abandonment.
A pigeon is but a stained dove-
An inhabitant of empty roofs
Fluttering in bereft places,
For he has no place to call home.
A pigeon is but a stained dove-
Dwelling with those put aside,
Those who look well enough
To see a creature worth of love.
A pigeon is but a stained dove-
Gathering by the park's benches
The very last crumbs of grace
Of the immaculate bird he once was.
A pigeon is but a stained dove,
An ideal darkened by the city's smoke,
By the lassitude of existence,
By humanity's disdainful looks.
YOU ARE READING
Petals of Dusk
PoetryHere are poems I collected for you, as a lousy bouquet of words, of tears and smiles, of thoughts and feelings, of yearning and resentment - I don't know if they will reach you, yet I feel like my heart and soul needed to be poured on those pieces o...
