The Pigeon Lady

This free verse poem was inspired by a factual memory of being in Barkers Pool in Sheffield City Centre – growing up in the 70’s. 😍

I Think she’s long gone…
The Pigeon Lady
But who feeds them now?
That surging sea of feathered heads
She used to call her children

The bread was everywhere
As were the plops
In varying shades of white
And if they’d eaten the berries
Then the plops would be purple or green!

Huddled with her bags
And bulked up by her layers
She always offered them more
Occasionally she would roar out at the ‘others’
Who often stopped by to sit on the benches

The small city square
Usually emptied by dusk
After her ‘children’ had feasted on chip suppers
They would take perch, back up on their ledges
High amongst the safety of the eaves

Knowing they were safe
She could then rest
Rest in her bed that was the bench
Her contorted hands would then pull at the patchwork quilt
Of yesterday’s news, ’till it covered her weathered face

Then the cathedral clock would chime
And the Pigeon Lady slept.

© D.M. Brighton