Vinayak Kesarwani


The Owl In Its Tree!

Taking in the sights,
In the dead of the night,
When only the fireflies did burn bright,
Our dear owl peered down the height.
Of his dear dwelling, his tree,
Which had been his abode since he became free.
From the confines of his egg's shell,
Away which fell,
And out hopped the owl, stepping over them.

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