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Irenes Pigeon Park

She used to tell me stories of the times when she would go, Into the big, bold city, come the rain or shine or snow. There never was a person, that took on the centre stage, But pigeons feature in the tales that never made the page. She used to walk her baby, wrapped up warm against the cold, She pushed that pram with little arms, till baby grew too old. She sat in silence on a bench and watched the day go by, And took in all the beauty, in those hot chocolate brown eyes. I wonder if she felt it, as she sat with words unsaid, I think I would be lonely, if I led that life instead. But she spoke very fondly, of the times with babe in tow, When into pigeon park she’d wonder, rain or shine or snow.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2022




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Date: 10/31/2022 5:03:00 AM
Irene is my late, much beloved gran, who I miss everyday. Pigeon Park is in Birmingham, West Midlands, Uk; it’s a great thinking/ people watching space that I sat in, to write this poem!
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