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