Pigeon Feathers - River Whyless

I once dreamed I was a poet

But I was bound to a single page

You’re not just a pen and a piece of paper

You’re a dog-eared book grown old with age

I’ve got a friend with a golden table

And he dines with the best of men

He’d buy you that silver mirror

If you could see that it’s only sand

I believe that I’m a writer

But I am bound to a single page

Sipping coffee at the edge of nightfall

Kissing you under summer rain

But you feed the fire when you close the door…