Quick Step March

He marches along in regal splendor Short legs goose-stepping to an unheard beat His coat black and shiny Fierce eyes gleaming with determination. At times, he makes a sound Perhaps to call others to arms However, no one responds And he is left to march alone. At times he comes to a sudden stop What could he be thinking? Where are my other soldiers perhaps? Again, he calls for reinforcements But none ever come For they have deserted him So he is left again to march alone In an unknown journey That only he knows. Suddenly, with no thoughts except his own He takes wing and flies off into the sky For that is what a crow/blackbird does Until next, he lands to practice his march again.