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Sigh, Tower
There are birds in my overhang,
but I like them fine - they're cheerful.
If I make a step too sudden,
they tend towards flight in fearful
and frantic groups that bob and sway,
like tiny drunks on holiday.
When the hanging over takes them,
they'll retreat and roost in cages
made of catwalks over stages
long since abandoned by the crowds.
Then spiders come tumbling down
when their vast cobwebs are shaken,
while men at my base are hastened
to flee from the path of their fangs.
Now the roots of my foundation
sink a bit less, each plodding step,
but it's a change I have welcomed,
as I can't think of any use
for permanent pause in my gait.
