Pigeons

I sit stoic like a gargoyle peering
over the ledge at the waitng city below

the sun in my eyes is seering
i'm a sentry on my watchful eyes on patrol

comments burn my ears as I am gearing
taking flight, over the bowlers out for a stroll

fight the currents my wing are yearning
like Iccarus I swore but the sun melts the soul

deep inside these flames are burning
diving down amongst the city street I need to go

I'm not a rat with with wings your are discerning
with out me the flowers in the window wouldn't grow