My Spirit Animal

The animal that sings its songs
And doesn’t care who listens;
Who sits beneath a crescent moon
Upon a branch that glistens

From tears that gather with the dew,
Until the sunrise swelling;
The nightingale, who’s flown so far
His joy now’s in
The telling

(inspired by this post…)

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

3 thoughts on “My Spirit Animal”

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