An Alarm Clock Ruined Everything

An early poem. Fantasy, sort of. From a strange and beautiful dream I had.

I am dreaming)when-
strolling through a midnight garden-
A nightingale descends to
perch between thorns of the rosebush.
With one silver toe
my bird dusts the snow
(awkwardly & innocently as a small child would)
from its chosen seat.
He gazes at me affectionately,
and I do love him,
but noticing his one red eye
I remark "Orion! You are either
very late or much too early."
He scoffs adoringly.  Oh-
And then it happened.
His eyes, just black and bright
With maternal moonlight
are violently blue.
That silver toe grew
into a spiteful golden claw
OH GOD, and then it began to caw,
screeching furiously at the dew
tumbling from the rose as it too
transformed and all at once my Orion
was a hideous lark-like-lion
and my midnight garden
            hides
                        under
                                    mo(u)rning.