Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nov 2012
The wind chilled the dead pigeons
the chimney had long been dormant,
if they had lain elsewhere
their beaks would carried the seeds of change,
yet the graded storeys were never condemned
as long as the Portland stone cladding
was not too evasive,
growls from under the porridge tableΒ 
by the occasioned Ginger
spared these absurd notions
topaz oreilly
Written by
topaz oreilly  england
(england)   
882
 
Please log in to view and add comments on poems