Pen's Random Jottings

Feathered Friends

The sign reads “do not feed the birds”

but sitting there he sees the words

as nothing he should care about

for in his mind there is no doubt

these are not pigeons at his feet,

his friends are gathered round his seat.

The men he worked with long ago

are memories he used to know;

his family has moved away,

he gets a card on Christmas day,

the hours are long yet years are fast,

he fills his time from seasons past.

So here he is, sat in the park

casting his bread crumbs in an arc

for Ginger, Bob, and Dusty too,

for Pet and Jane and Mary-Lou;

sharing his lunch and memories

among the friends he always sees.