See
They speak at length about the moral.
But I know the pigeon
and its custom
to alight on the shoulders
of the children,
on the palms of enamored,
to sleep
under the roof of Notre Dame.
They speak at length like a wind
in the gutter.
And we are the Sunday bells.
See, the pigeon – dear.
See, the pigeon.
Copyright © Bozhidar Pangelov | Year Posted 2017
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