Moon glow lights his aging face

Eyes that sparkle, like the sun

Wise beyond his years, yes he

Must be the chosen one

Perched, upon this mighty branch

His talons, hanging tight

Could this be the evening, when

At last, he says good night

Many a year, he has spent

Wandering, for his evening meal

Searching for the proper prey

Is now his one ordeal

You wonder if there is a way

To keep him, where he stands

Realizing, in his eyes,

That he has other plans

You watch his days grow shorter

Til the day, when he’s set free

His final wish, indeed, came true

He grew old, with this old tree

 

 

 

©Dorinda Duclos All Rights Reserved
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