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