Tis a Raven

'Tis A Raven 'Tis a raven 'pon my head, Black and graven, dead as dead. If I should wake before the morn No more shall break a golden dawn. 'Twas a dark night of nights, It left its mark 'pon restless sprites, If they return before I rise Fear wouldst burn my half-closed eyes. 'Tis a mischief, befit a child, A midnight thief dreaded, wild, If I should feel out of control Wouldst surely steal my dormant soul. 'Tis ghostly screams and black of wing, Of terror, to dreams it does but cling, If I should stray betwixt life and death, It would but lay 'pon my breath. 'Tis black as coal, it dare not speak, My frightened soul trapped in its beak, No golden dawn 'pon my eyes, Where no child is born or old man dies. 'Tis a raven, the image of me, A child, craven, in misery, If he should flit 'tween fear and dread I shall but sit upon his head. ©RJVHorton2019