Raven's Quill
As I start to write, the music softly plays,
In my gloomy chamber, with candles a glow,
Black wax dripping down, like forgotten days,
The raven’s quill that clouds and castles draws.
Incense giving off a scent of sandalwood,
And the wine, the poison from the East,
Give me thoughts that Even Seraphs would,
Yet the tender beauty sleeps within the beast.
And then the whispers come, from the shadow lands,
To give me the words, bright and eloquent,
Soft and tender thoughts like my dearest’s hands,
And my quill shall move till the ink is spent.
As the dawn arises, I’m ready to rest,
Among silk and velvet, on my mistress’s breast.
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