An owl lived in the heart of town

Left the forest, all alone

On a rooftop high above

That was now his only home

The city looked so harsh and cold

But food was plenty, nights were warm

Winds that howled between the towers

Carried warmth through winter’s storm

Free to fly beneath the sky

Watching people down below

Gunshots rang, and voices clashed

Yet the wild was harsher so

One day came an old, frail man

Dressed in rags, with trembling hands

“Oh, poor thing, what are you doing here?”

He reached out, so kind, so near

The owl perched upon his arm

Followed him to his small home

Dusty chair, a dim-lit room

Now a place to call his own

Nothing much to eat inside

Yet the man would share his bread

"I'm so sorry, this is all I have"

Tears of sorrow, words unsaid

But the owl had plenty still

For in this house, the mice were free

Side by side, the two remained

Bound by warmth, by company

Then one morning, the old man said

"Fly away, back to the trees"

Freed at last into the sky

Gone to where his kind should be

But the owl returned before the man

Landed softly by his door

"I see, I see," the old man wept

And the owl hooted evermore

Two warm souls in the city’s cold

Side by side, where they belonged

An old man's house, a quiet night

Where their song still lingers on