And the day walks away,
Like a spurned lover.
The night comes,
And sits like a KOOL owl;
On a branch of a tree,
Waiting for the moonshine,
To spell sadness and sorrow,
To hoot loneliness and despair.
And mystery says hello,
As the night grows older,
Like a burden on a humping shoulder.
The stars would twinkle,
Like some glittering diamonds,
And sometimes one of them would fall,
With its tail burning spaciously.
Are you watching?
Are you whispering words of comfort?
Perhaps you are just a ghost,
Never here; nor there.
I am the owl,
My piercing eyes drilling the darkness,
Silent and KOOL.
Copyright – Ali Sobree @ AisKOOL July 2010
