Pigeon Attachment and the Moles that Let Go

Pigeon on the windowsill,
lost.
A home lost, she steps lightly,
sadly,
along the window ledge
and its limited path,
once serving as a doorstep,
a welcome mat;
now a gallery to all that is
lost.

Neck feathers fluffed,
she sleeps on her doorstep,
door covered with mesh.
She will awake to the sight
of where she had once closed her eyes.
No more dimmed light,
no comfort with no home.

Just fly away you stupid bird!
At least you may find home
in another abandoned hole.
Others here are chased below the underground,
living lives of the mole,
with no home to be found.

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