He plunged through the clouds,The moon on his wing.He could have swornHe heard a woman sing.Could it be his mistress,Her song on the night?With her image in mind,He descended in flight.
As the owl flew closer,He became confused.This was not his mistress,But she left him bemused.Her hair was not midnight,But red and ablaze!Such beautiful locks,They sure deserved praise.
The Great Gray Owl,Soft beneath metal plating,Flew gracefully downTo where she was waiting.He stretched out his legs,And extended a wing,He puffed out his chest,With her he began to sing.
He cooed out his name,In response to her question,In a strange owl voice,With a solemn expression."Holutu, and Yoors?"Another small hoot.He asked for her name,In his voice like a flute.
She reached out to him,With her delicate hands,She scratched him behindHis feathery ear strands.He quaked in responseTo the sirens touch.He loved being pet,Loved it very much.
He blinked, once, twice,At the siren as she spoke.He ruffled his feathers,The color of smoke.Emmalyne was her name,He thought in his mind,Such a beautiful woman,And she was so kind!
Holutu snapped out his wings,and shook his tail.He clicked his beak twice,Preparing to sail.Alas, his time hereWas running short.He had to return toHis previous sport.
With a flick of his feathers,He hovered in the air,He sure didn't meanTo leave with no care.A piercing screech,He sent through the night,As towards the full moonHe ascended in flight.
Goodbye, sweet siren,He meant to say,Perhaps we shall meetAnother day.