One Poem Every Day, Poetry

No. 207 (I think) “Friends with Pigeons” 28/7/16

There is a girl I know,
She wears grey skirts and dark tights,
Maroon lipstick.
Hiding behind panels and
Window frames,
She talks to clothes horses
And whistles to the wind.
I have never seen her dance,
She has a heavy tread,
But the swirling of her skirt,
Defies translation
Into dance.
You’d never forget her figure,
But you can’t recall her eyes,
Hidden under strong
Black glasses,
And behind strong cups of coffee,
They are grey.
And very sombre.
I watched her once,
Standing at the traffic lights,
Waving to the pigeons,
And I think they understood,
That she was lonely.
I suppose she has a flat,
Perhaps a cat.
I have seen her buying bacon
At the store,
I thought she might have a cat to share it with.
Once her lunch was missing from the lunch room,
So I gave her half a sausage and some
Fried rice.
She ate it and said thank you.
That’s all I know of her.
But I’d swear she never robbed a bank,
If asked to swear in court.
Of course if she did,
I’m sure she’d do it well.
And the pigeons would probably help her.


No idea how this poem happened πŸ˜‚ yesterday my co-worker was talking to herself while sorting the filing cabinet and I said to her it would make a good subject for a poem, the girl who talks to filing cabinets, the next thing I came home and wrote this poem!Β 


3 thoughts on “No. 207 (I think) “Friends with Pigeons” 28/7/16

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