A poem for Drusilla the zombie pigeon

We didn´t know long,
you sort of bothered me
as you hang around dead in that three.

As you swang in the wind
The willows were weeping,
in fact you were so rotten I saw something creeping.

Your eyes were dead and
it make me kind of sick
but that creepy charme somehow did the trick.

But now you are gone,
the branch is free
and somehow Iam missing ye

RIP

P.s.: Somehow I get a desire to go back to writing silly and idiotic poems like I did as a kid. Hmmmm.... Wonder if Fids still has the tissues on those we wrote them down...