My Crow

A bird on the horizon
 He flew, a soft black crow
 Flying through the air,  the
 Sun has its favorite and he
 Was mine. He flew a crooked 
 Road and arrived every morning.
 He had a flaw, his one leg did not
 Work and in the winter it froze.
 With ice around it he carried the
 Leg with all his might, just one
 Good leg to get around.
 He struggled but I fed him well, he would
 Watch for me winter to spring, but there
 Was one night, a storm, the wind
 Was strong, it blew so hard and in that
 Morning I never saw him then, a falcon
 Circled overhead, the days did pass and he
 Was dead. He still flies though, in my mind,  
 A Soft black crow, in the air, from up above
 Looking down- still thinking I am there.

birdfree verse

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