It calls quietly from outside the curtained window.
A haunting, mysterious call that could easily be mistaken for the night's dark sounds.
It calls again and the feeling of being watched is unshakable.
The solemn, mournful call of one single owl never held such meaning.
My father watches us in the dead of the night.
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Owl
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)

No comments:
Post a Comment