Doves

The listless  birds seem to have escaped

from the razzamataz clutches of a hapless

stage magician.

Now they perch on the railing, slightly stunned,

outside the pound shop.

Pure white and pink eyed,

too good for this crumbling concrete

shopping plaza.

Fluffed up and bored they sit,

waiting for better times 

that will never arrive,

unemployed and living

accessories from an unsuccessful

show which has moved on

to the next hapless provincial venue.

Perhaps a passing wedding planner

will one day take pity on the birds

and offer them an engagement

in a swanky out of town hotel.

But in the meantime they sit adrift

and unfulfilled on a railing,

missing the showbiz days of old,

too afraid to fly away.