John Crow
It hovers around
waiting in the air
perfect time to land
to salvage
Keen sense of smell
I can't detect
but I know where
it wants to go
The night a friend
to an enemy
snuffed him away
an innocent
Sad....
the owner regains
soil becomes the keeper
of the body
the soul...in the heart
It flies away
the sweet fragrance gone.
Copyright © Karena Brown | Year Posted 2007
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