Two Birds, One Night

 

A lonely evening, soft and deep,

Where shadows stretch and secrets keep,

The mango branch, a quiet stage,

Cradles one bird, worn by age.

Its wing once strong, now bent and torn,

Remembers skies it once had worn.

Yet from its throat, a gentle start—

A fragile song from a broken heart.

No feathered choir to join its tune,

Just rain-slick leaves beneath the moon.

It sings to wind, to patient light,

A glowing hope within the night.

The river hums, the grasses sway,

Silent witnesses to its lay.

And overhead, the velvet sky,

Holds countless stars that whisper by.

Across the hush where twilight lies,

An owl stirs, with ancient eyes.

Perched on branches gnarled and old,

It dreams in silence, calm and bold.

Not hunting prey or chasing flight,

But lost in stillness of the night.

Its golden gaze, unblinking, deep,

Keeps forest lore and secrets steep.

Two solitary souls, apart—

One sings aloud, one guards the heart.

Both known to none, yet shining bright,

Their journeys held in quiet light.

In stillness, stars above reveal

Their strength, their grace, their silent zeal.