The Night Owl
As the prey scurries
So does the predator
Once all is quiet,
The target is set
The bright piercing yellow eyes shine
The wonky hands curl up to
Form tree-like talons
He takes off and swoops down
With arrow- straight flight
The mouse tries to escape but
Is only met with the death grip of the has of life
As the grip gets tighter,
The night gets darker
Everything goes pitch black
And all is once again quiet
The owl sits down to supper
Once finished, the search begins again
For the next reaping of souls
To destroy the pains of hunger
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC
The Night Owl
As the prey scurries
So does the predator
Once all is quiet,
The target is set
The bright piercing yellow eyes shine
The wonky hands curl up to
Form tree-like talons
He takes off and swoops down
With arrow- straight flight
The mouse tries to escape but
Is only met with the death grip of the has of life
As the grip gets tighter,
The night gets darker
Everything goes pitch black
And all is once again quiet
The owl sits down to supper
Once finished, the search begins again
For the next reaping of souls
To destroy the pains of hunger
The subject poem
