Return of the Birds

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Too many bird in Hyde Park, London. Photo taken by me.

We have been on bad terms since that morning my dad took me and my sister to Trafalgar Square. If it was not for my sister’s unreasonable love for the outdoors and my dad’s urge to please her, I would not have been there among conspiring pigeons and seagulls. Damn you. I held an ice cream swirl (magnificent it was, vanilla flavor with an extra helping of sprinkles and a chocolate flake I always saved for last) on the cusp of my lips. I could just about taste it’s sweetness and god was it good, the best sex a child could ever know – then you swept in to take it from me. Vile thing, weren’t those pellets in my chubby cupped hand enough?
I’ll admit, I hated you back then. I did not see you for what you were; a creature that hungered for more (and you would get it). One that strived for the sweet stuff, not the stale pellets we wanted to feed you. I suppose we’re alike in that way.
I will continue to run away unabashed when I catch you looking at me sidelong ready to snatch the next treat out of my hand. But, I can appreciate that we all need a dose of the sweeter things in life.

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