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There’s an owl in my attic

But it only comes at night

Its wings flap loudly above me

Squeezing through a space real tight

I think it comes in through the roof

In a hole that I should patch

It perches on the wooden beams

And I hear its talons scratch

I wonder if there’s a mouse up there

A perfect owl snack

Guess it’s not bad to have him

Since it’s mouse traps that I lack

Sometimes I hear him sound a ‘hoo’

Sometimes twice in a row

I’m starting to like my owl friend

I don’t want him to go

Tonight I went up to the attic

To be a gracious host

I heard the ‘hoos’ but didn’t see him

Could it have been a ghost?

“Hello, Mr. Owl? Are you there?”

I asked into the night

“Get out!” a voice yelled back at me

And I fell back with a fright

As I tumbled down the ladder

I listened to the angry spirit

It’s not a friendly owl then

But a voice that begs to fear it

“No, you get out!” I shouted back

And the attic began to creak

Then suddenly its door shut tight

And inside I heard a shriek

The wind began to whip outside

I heard the sound of glass breaking

The lone window in the attic shattered

And the sound left my ears aching

“Get out!” I repeated back to the voice

When suddenly a silence fell

The wind began to calm back down

And the door opened up as well

I tiptoed my way back up the ladder

Peeked my head above the open space

I expected to see a ghost up there

And finally meet him face to face

But the attic was empty after all

So I laughed, and then I grinned

I climbed up to mend the broken window

When an owl flew right in

Sydney Walters

Copywriter, fiction author and PR professional from D.C. who scribbles in answers on trivia night and shouts at her Playstation on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Sips hot tea or coffee from a Studio Ghibli mug. Paces while brainstorming. Conquers hot sauce.

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