I am the night owl
flapping its wings
stealthily through your dreams
with a soft feathery touch
you may remember
you once imagined
like the figure at the end
of the corridor
whose face always remains
in the shadow
I am the sower of images
growing from the dark
touching your mind gently
tapping at forbidden doors
closed to the brighter hours
I am the prowler of twilight thoughts
that lend shapes
to your hopes
and fears and desires
living their lives
in between
I am the night owl
that shudders
and folds its wings quietly
when the sun rises
always too soon
patiently waiting again
until the day is done
* * *
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 4:56 AM UTC
I am the night owl
flapping its wings
stealthily through your dreams
with a soft feathery touch
you may remember
you once imagined
like the figure at the end
of the corridor
whose face always remains
in the shadow
I am the sower of images
growing from the dark
touching your mind gently
tapping at forbidden doors
closed to the brighter hours
I am the prowler of twilight thoughts
that lend shapes
to your hopes
and fears and desires
living their lives
in between
I am the night owl
that shudders
and folds its wings quietly
when the sun rises
always too soon
patiently waiting again
until the day is done
* * *
