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The Lonely Woods
Long ago on a windy night,
The woods were dark and the moon shone bright,
Where streams of water whistled around;
Lived two birds happy and sound.
Torrents of water gushed from a height,
Oh! What a lovely and captivating sight!
The orchard chirped and sang the nightingale;
On quiet moonlights cold and pale.
On peaks of the cinchona lay their nest,
With sweet and frail babies at rest;
Quivering and trembling in the chill all day,
Trying to mutter something they could not say.
The Orchard brought food from the east,
Along with her babies she’d feast;
Fluffing tiny wings, the babies would stare,
At their mother, feeding with care.
On a branch beneath, thrived the nightingale,
A strong and luteous handsome female;
With scintillating feathers of gold and blue,
She stood guard of her eggs anew.
Dawn to dusk they ruled o’er the tree,
Jinks all day and no melee,
Unaware of a foe round the wood,
Shh! That’s a cobra with a deadly hood..
One dark night the cobra swept,
Into the nest, quietly crept;
Leapt at the birds; devoured them all,
They moaned and cried; with all might tried,
But finally succumbed to the devil’s thrall..
Still to this day, you hear someone weep,
In the lonely woods, dark and deep.
©Justin Joseph