The night was young,
the moon looked down
upon her high and lofty
upon the snore and dreamy
Twas night and not a whimper in the air
peace and stillness resounded everywhere
Thou bird sprung out
Thy cry pierced the air
Thrice ye sounded
Twas three at night
A gentle rumble in the distance
in the direction of south
A growing thirst for food
the desire affecting thy mood
With a leap, and a skip,
I bounced on my feet
On small squiggly toes
A man on a mission
Then, the wind blew softly by
The moon looked down and smiled
The bird sprung back to its nest
as I laid down to rest
With a murmur of satisfaction,
and a growing belly of non-nutrition,
let dreams of contentment
whisper an enchantment.
