Friday, January 23

Little Bat

this bat flies this way that
his blacky coat so flat
and up and down and in and out
to get to where he's at

this bat he feels the moon
his rubber-winged cocoon
unfolds its flaps as he unwraps
to cry his nightly tune

and I this little pet
and I dark silhouette
so here I be with only me
to ponder my regret

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