A painful rhythm
Lungs fill
Choking on realties
While the water weeds
Lie still.
She calls in the empty night
Silent wanderer
Taking flight.
Reverberations of
Feathered sound.
An owl can only know so much.
Her wings glide,
Slow.
Now the world guides her back,
Over the garden wall.
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Published by delightedpessimist
I am the delighted pessimist. Purveyor of sadness, happiness, and everything in between. Also cheesy statuses because I never know what else to put here.
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Woolgathering 