Rain falling over him streaming in faucet drops

Sitting on a puddle of the soaked grass

He waits all alone

The eyes within seem to be full of precious tears

The ones that are formed from lonesome moments

A creature from a mystery he is

Bird like feathers make him charming

But brows frowning makes him unapproachable

Sitting in the puddle of soaked grass

No one comes near for he is different

But the tears that leak from his pupils

Underneath there is a new flower that has bloomed

What a beauty from such sorrow

Fog of delay of morning has formed

Around the figure of dreams

He’s different, made from part and parts of others

An eagle, bobcat, owl?

Whatever lies in the long lash stems

Doesn’t stir a noise from around

Where his tears of dark liquid grows

rain does not stop for it keeps pelting the earth

For it doesn’t stop for one creature that’s lonesome

What a saddened thing of fantasy