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
Written by BlueBeastGirl (Running from the Reaper)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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