He Heard a strange hissing sounds coming from his barn,
Something paranormal in the night he wondered, scared.
The eerie sounds ceased, and he could not find the source.
Some kind of vanishing ghosts or worse?
Heard it again next night, brought a gun and a flashlight,
Heard a whooshing sound inside the barn,
Only wind blowing through an open window.
At last he found the source of the hissing sounds,
A proud barn owl looking straight at him.
Bob Boyd
Author: BobBoyd
Age 80. Cancer survivor since 3 years ago. Work out 3 times a week. Ride my exercise bike 2 hours a day. Live a solo reclusive life. Retired a year ago from working with the elderly in a nonprofit. Started writing poetry a little over a year ago; most poems I write are fictional but some are not. Spiritual with a permanent spiritual experience. Write poems on many subjects. Always researching for many of my poems and because of my unquenchable thirst for knowledge. After reading and hearing about many near death experiences and death bed visions, I believe death is the ultimate awakening and the relocation of a lifetime. You may believe differently, but you have the right to be wrong -- I'm just messing with you. :-)
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