The Owl Doesn't Know

There is an owl outside my window
Late at night when I can't sleep
Or early in the morning I hear their call
It seems so sorrowful to my ears
And at times it seems so urgent
I do not know why the owl calls
I simply know that they do each night
There's something haunting about it
And it echoes deep in my mind as I sleep
Dreams of owls flying silently through the woods
The hanging moss swaying as they pass
Light from the moon reflecting off their wings
I hope I spend years listening to them speak
And the owl doesn't know that I'm listening