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Poetry from within
   


Submitted by

Don Holmes



THE OLD WHITE OWL




I stood in the wood at midnight



I heard her weep and sigh



As the old white owl came hunting



So swift and silent by



When the old white owl came hunting



With cruel and piercing eye



There in the wood at midnight



Some creature sure would die





I stood in the wood at midnight



I heard her softly moan



Of tragedies and terror



Dark deeds beneath the moon



As the old white owl came hunting



With cruel and piercing eye



There in the wood at midnight



Some creature sure would die






Terry Maltby