The Owl with the Broken Wing

He knocked once and came on in,

The owl with the broken wing.

It had been a while since he'd been,

We exchanged tales of what we'd seen.

As he settled down in the brown armchair,

Removed his glasses with a weary air,

I brought him tea and a custard cream,

But he was gazing ahead as if in a dream.

I sat opposite on the blue setee,

And asked softly what the problem might be.

Oh it was nothing save a few odd words,

Struck him as strange this old, broken bird.

He'd met a man at the Gatekeeper's Inn,

Who numbered in hundreds his kith and kin,

But told my kindly listening friend,

He'd achieved nothing at all, in the end.

The tawny fowl gave a large sigh,

Said he'd accepted long ago we all must die,

But his sadness was the man's unreadiness,

That he hadn't been shown what mattered less.

He had achieved it all and I told him so,

Said my clever old owl as he prepared to go.

Thank you for listening he said as he made to depart,

It is true that a good friend will lighten your heart.