When I was eight I had a friend. With a pirate smile. Make believe and play pretend. We were innocent and wild. Hopped a fence and slammed the gate. Running down my alleyway. In time to watch Sally's pigeons fly. We loved to watch them dive and soar. Circle in the sky. Free as a bird from three to four. And never knowing why. Neighbors pulled their wash back in. Put away my Barbie and Ken. Look out overhead. While Sally's pigeons fly. I had a fool's confidence. That the world had no boundaries. But instincts and common sense. Come in different quantities. My heart began to. Skip to the beat. Of the boy next door. She had her eye across the street. On someone shy and tall. We lived our dreams. And challenged fate. In tears she told me she was late. And Sally let his pigeons out to fly.... On the dresser sits a frame. With a photograph. Two little girls in ponytails. Some twenty one years back. She left one night with just a nod. Was lost from some back alley job. I close my eyes and Sally's pigeons fly. She never saw those birds again. And me I can't remember when. A pirate smile hasn't made me cry. I close my eyes. And Sally's pigeons fly....