A Pigeon

 

In early morning on the door of window,

A pigeon would come empty is its beak;

Alike teary eyed child who returns home,

Longing to be greeted with mother’s recipe as treat.

Who Could Not……

 

What remained undiscovered,

Let there be a status quo,

Else with hands of ignorant shalt be consumed;

Who merely dissect, yet there’s no end,

To quench its thirst rather to bloom.