Old Man Waiting...... Poem by Margo Posh

Blue skies, amidst the White clouds -
Flowers growing amidst the rain,
Birds fly, through seamless turbulance -
Winging their way home again.

In the garden looking upwards,
The old man towards the sky,
Wipes away a teardropp -
From his weary eye.

He thinks perhaps the moment -
Has come, when birds do fly away -but
He hoped with all his tired heart,
They would, come home today.

The loft, it is but silent -
No need to place new food,
He hopes and prays, that very soon,
They'll come home to roost.

As all hope fails, the old man hears -
A whooshing in the sky,
He looks towards the heavy clouds, and
He begins to cry.

For there above the chimney,
Looking down on him,
Several eyes were peering -
At the old man, Jim!

The birds, they swooped to great him,
Into the loft, made haste -
Better late than never -
'Twas the end of their last race.

'Goodnight, my little pigeons' -
The old man tipped his cap,
Another worry over - and
That's the end of that!