The moon was playing a timid mouse,

Sneaking looks between the clouds,

And watching the world so far beneath it,

Spreading light like a sea of silver waves.

Because down between the haunting shadows of the trees,

The moon found interest,

In a creature so small,

- Too small,

Of any interest to be found in it.

A nightingale glided among the trees,

Singing a tune so joyous,

That the other animals peeked out to listen,

And it had caught the moon's gaze,

And entranced it.

Yet what would a nightingale be doing out so late at night?

Far past its time,

Far away from its home,

Far away from the others,

Lost in the dangers and beauties of the night.

Unseen to all watching creatures,

Was the nightingale's eternal bliss,

That could only be expressed in the splendour of a midnight song,

As it sang;

"Tweet-tweet twiddle-tweet-wheee!"

For even the moon could not avert its gaze,

With its song so merry,

But it had also caught the unmoveable stare,

Of an unexpected pair of darkly eyes.

Its fluttery movements were followed,

Keenly by a pair belonging to only,

The second nightingale in the forest.

It twirped a song;

"Tweet-tweet twiddle-tweet-wheee!"

The nightingale flew a glorious loop in the air,

As the second fluttered out from the trees,

And they swirled,

And swirled,

Into the depths of the night.

And the moon could not remove its gaze,

Before it sank below the horizon,

For it was lonely,

Lightened only,

By the light of the wondrous sun.