The Nightingale Poem by Champ Dela Cruz

In the meadow, where moonbeams glow,
A melody flows through the night's shadow.
A songstress unseen, her voice takes flight,
The enchanting tune of the nightingale's delight.

With feathers of ebony, a cloak so black,
She perches in silence, awaiting the track,
As dusk descends, her heart takes wing,
A symphony begins, for all to sing.

Her notes are like whispers, soft and sweet,
They dance on the breeze, a lullaby so fleet,
Echoing through the starry dome,
A serenade of love, in her heavenly home.

Through the stillness of the night, she weaves,
Melancholy tunes, like autumn leaves,
Her trills and warbles fill the air,
A hymn of solace, a tender affair.

The world around hushes in her wake,
As she sings of love's longing ache,
The nightingale's song, a balm to the soul,
A testament to nature's endless role.

So let us listen, be still, and hear,
The nightingale's song, both far and near,
For in this dark hour, she brings us light,
A poet of the night, a beacon of delight.