The Raven Waits
It is cold among the shadows, where heavy tears belong
Behind the gates, and iron locks, where sinking headstones dwell
Where names that time erases, are deeply etched with tales
One walks here in the dim, gray light, where the ravens weave their spell
There are legends, told in secret.. from deep below the earth...
In whispered tongues, they wonder,...does the raven wait for death?
Black ebony has circled. Is a feather just a quill?
Or...do the stories hold some merit...are they illusions of the chill?
A moss covered headstone crumbles, and tumbles with a touch
A raven's gaze seems evil, has he brushed the devil's wrath?
A voice of anguish rises, with an echo from the mist
And the silence comes, and all is still,.....or are legends simply myths?
Black heart, no shame.... a moth to flame
A caw cries out, , ..."how great the cost!"
They perch and watch and find a nest, among the webbed design
The lilies and the laurel...a tangled garden climbs
entwining over markers...that only wither on the vine
A raven waits, as nightfall comes, as fog and returns again
Another night, another life, will end again on time
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Inspired By Kelly's Contest: The Raven (Poe)
10/4/14
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