I walked downstairs this morning to make a cup of tea.

Put slices in the toaster one for you and one for me.

I heated up the kettle, put the bags straight in the cup

And went to go to get the milk, to top the water up

 

But opening the fridge, was a site before my eyes

And I have to say I stepped back in surprisingly surprise

He sat there looking at me with that beady look they have

There’s a pigeon in my fridge ,I must be going mad

 

He sort of slumped before me, he was obviously cold

How he got there god knows ,but pigeons are quite bold.

Maybe he flew in when my back was turned one day

Or smuggled in with groceries like a feathered cast away

 

One thing is for certain he’d pecked at all the peas

Tops gone off the yoghurts the carrots and the cheese,

How long he’d been living there know one seems to know

But his wife and kids were at the back putting on a show

 

Now the pigeons homeless, evicted just like that

I would have left them living there, to protect him from the cat

Though his cold and damp apartment had lots of food to rifle

I draw the line at pigeon shit in the middle of my trifle.

 

09/05/2021