To a wandering Pigeon

20 Sep

She visits me every weekend,
When I am seated near the window pane,
Constantly she looks at me for any sign of care,
Rotating invariably are her eyes,
Sometimes left, sometimes right.

Her wings though tired showcase dynamism,
Her beak though narrow an icon of innocence,
What a beautiful maker is My God I acclaim,
Such innocence packed with dynamism.

It relishes my soul and makes me appraise my Creator,
Such beauty around me he has filled,
Beautiful is as useful as the useful,
Perhaps more so said Victor Hugo.

While I lay in my couch at day’s end,
Such lovely memories lift my being,
They rewind and refresh my thoughts,
Oh wandering Pigeon my unexpected Joy.

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