There he sits while the world passes by
Too fast for his liking,
As he sits on and on,
Feeding the pigeons, so long
To his only friends as they head off,
Into bright blue skies
To head for the sun,
Perhaps he won’t be there when his friends return
And so he is left on his own once again
And again and again and again,
As his wrinkles get longer,
His skin starts to sag,
His shoulders ache,
His muscles lag
Behind everyone else’s
As the clock ticks away
Tick tock, tick tock,
And as time goes by
Johnny begins to wish that he,
Like his pigeons,
Could fly
Fly on…
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