Young boys never shut up
His mother had had enough
Despite his cries and screams
She tightly wove the painful seams
He spoke softly from now on
His voice was nearly gone
The little boy ran away
Dark and grey
There to stay
Shadows were his friends
They had wings and would never sing
Silence was their song
He found a place to belong
Humans came and humans left
Just to hear the owl
In the moonlight hour
A wise old owl lived in an oak
The more he saw the less he spoke
The less he spoke the more he heard
Why can't we all be like that wise old bird?
YOU ARE READING
Ramblings of the Soul (✅)
Poetry1st Place Winner of The Diamond Awards 2017 1st Place Winner of The Angel Awards 2017 Best Cover Winner of The Coruscate Awards 2017 Best Title Winner of The Wicked Awards 2018 • • • Hello, friend! Do you crave a horrific end or just simply a morbid...
