Old Town Cannes
seven garden-gnomes just resting
six priests at lunch digesting
five minutes past mid-day
four verres de vin rose
three table-umbrellas
two motor-cycle fellas
one bell and how it tolls
of wariness to errant souls
and there in the wall 's
a vacant niche
where pigeon-saints just out of reach
preen and gaze with ill-intent
would top my lunch with excrement
poem by STEPHEN BRIAN Brady
Added by Poetry Lover
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