By: Alex Di Guglielmo

The small Pigeon opens its eyes
for the first time in its life.
Life is blurry and confusing,
yet ever calming.
It waits to be fed.
Was it the only one?
The life of calming
was replaced by a life of loneliness.
It peaks its head out,
watching the fire in the sky
feeling the warmth
it closes its eyes.
Mother and Father visit often,
but not to gain a relationship
simply to fulfill the task of life.
The pigeon is lonely.
One day Mother does not come back.
One day Father does not come back.
The Pigeon wakes before the rising warmth
it stretches its essence, almost rushing.
It whims itself to the sky, with ticks of a beating heart.
In silence as it watches the ground.
Yet does not fall,
with wings outward
it sores through the blue-black canvas,
a canvas of unexplored dreams.
It watches the world as it was
a world not of its own
It was a pigeon.
Yet flashes of lights echoed the ground below, still holding a charm to the bird.
It soars onward,
to its only friend,
towards the heat of the fire,
That cradles the sky.
Alex Di Guglielmo is a senior at Holy Family University, majoring in English. Alex’s interests include playing video games, making his own hot sauce, and hanging out with his dog, Jesse.





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