By Angel   

Birds sing at morning light,
A sweet melody of nature's joy

Yet the howling at night,
Is the haunting symphony I enjoy.

From the whistling of winds to
The whispering of trees.

The echoes of rain drops on
The wet abandoned streets.

I lay all night anticipating
For it to start.

Then waiting, and weeping for
The bittersweet part.

When the moon is moving to the other
side, she knew they'd always reply.

Wolves of all kinds howl back,
For their fervent goodbye.

Then all Stops at the crunching
Sounds of leaves.

And the day begins to sigh, and birds
settle on the bare branches of trees.

Starting their own heartfelt

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A revolving goodbye .