Pallid Skies
When the rain turns to small stones
Battering homes with the sour skies
Injured apples lay still on the ground
Where they fade in a cloudy puddle
And resting not to far
A black raven peering with its heavy eyes
Against a cold fall day as if he knew what I was thinking
He pecked and prodded at his wet feathers
And watched me walk past
Then raised his mighty wings to flight
Free without a thought
No thoughts of a lover waiting somewhere
No thoughts of retched pollution graying his air
Close to what he knew
Over my head my umbrella, I drew
Copyright © Laura Mckenzie | Year Posted 2008
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