the pigeons on top of my locker

Precious

The clock report

Every hour, reminding me

Through the window

Life is going on

People keep walking

Ice melting

Train halt and go

Hunger, remorse, pain .

but fear that whisper into , if?

And the tears deep down

Insanity untamed

What if?

I waited too many moons

Fascinated by the way

How they form and deform

The pigeon’s new born.