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I'm always in the shadows,
I barely wake at day,
Catching little field mice
Is the only game I play.
My golden eyes will spot you,
Wherever you might go,
I'll glide right beside you,
Yet you will never know.
My wings make not a sound,
But my screech, in pitch, is high,
If prey comes upon me,
It is quite sure to die.
©2009-2010 Fantasy-luver
:iconfantasy-luver:

Author's Comments

This poem I did in 7th grade, but not in my poem book for class. I decided to do a poem for myself instead of the teacher. :)

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February 14, 2009
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