Lament of the Old Man
No sooner was the old man dead
did the crows gather round his bed,
and no sooner had he shut his eyes
did those vultures revel his demise;
As soon as all the birds were fed,
the candles out, the taste of dread
was spread on wings across the skies
as his soul flew and my soul sighed.
Copyright © Paul Allen | Year Posted 2015
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