The Forlorn Owl

Oh Barn Owl sitting there.

Seeing everything with your

direct piercing stare.

No hoot, hoot, hoot will come from you.

A screeching sound is what you do.

Your face is shaped like a loving heart

that was your trademark from the start

You look so forlorn and sad

Like no happiness in your life

have you ever had.

Your face is not as pretty as it should be,

The shape of a heart should make it lovely to see.

I still think you’re awesome anyway

And have a bond to you in some way.

Maybe because owls are thought to be smart

I have a connection to you on that part.

You sit in the barn on the ledge up so high

hiding you from all the things that come by.

When nighttime comes, you fly around

to look for your prey that is on the ground.

You find enough food to feed you,

and your young as their new lives have just begun.

Pretty soon they will grow up too

and then they will look just like you.

With heart shaped faces with which they were born

and they will also look forlorn.

 
Copyright © by Judith Pleasant 10/06/2008

This poem is dedicated to Dave