My seven pigeons

My seven pigeons

Clap! Clap! Clap!

My seven pigeons flying over my head,

On the terrace I just had them fed,

They are flying free, so high and low,

I whistle to alert away the trap,

They glide, they sail and glow.

When I sing my own anthem,

I call them in notes,

When I paint my open page,

They become those seven colour tones,

They fly with my wings in them,

My worries do not have them stone,

They are off their grounded cage.

I know they’ll come back soon,

To me they’ll coo their simple boon,

Tomorrow they’ll fly again and spread,

Their warmth in every song be read,

They’d learn to be in the gleeful gap,

As handful thoughts would whistle and clap.

21 July 2014