Tabby got bored , clearly but not soon enough as the feathers attest , left me with you a sorry looking bird no art in flight no sheen or shine or rare seen Kite but boring, common , pigeon grey looks up at me all sideways askew a strange look a bob or two towards a bush then bob away, maybe just without a wing, not a prayer to fly So wobble a bit, try to unload or confuse the two , maybe three fat black flies, alive, still their patient hanging on waiting for Nature’s curse to kick …superior like a lord over all I survey until the words from Early and Dementia , pretty soon I’ll look as stupid and dead , as you
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