The Bat's Prowl

January 18, 2018
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Leathery wings clasp in and out of the air.
Shielded by the night, it’s presence is only a speck.
Before he could flaunt his freedom of the night, his hunger
needed to be fulfilled.
Shattering the sheltered silence, screeching from branch to building.
Echoes boast and bound, not a mouse in sight.
A lonely escape from the sun, without a friend for the ride.
Hiding in the shadows, his wings flap with the sound of a drum.
Forever an outcast, the moon is his only friend.

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