Tis a Raven
'Tis A Raven
'Tis a raven
'pon my head,
Black and graven,
dead as dead.
If I should wake
before the morn
No more shall break
a golden dawn.
'Twas a dark
night of nights,
It left its mark
'pon restless sprites,
If they return
before I rise
Fear wouldst burn
my half-closed eyes.
'Tis a mischief,
befit a child,
A midnight thief
dreaded, wild,
If I should feel
out of control
Wouldst surely steal
my dormant soul.
'Tis ghostly screams
and black of wing,
Of terror, to dreams
it does but cling,
If I should stray
betwixt life and death,
It would but lay
'pon my breath.
'Tis black as coal,
it dare not speak,
My frightened soul
trapped in its beak,
No golden dawn
'pon my eyes,
Where no child is born
or old man dies.
'Tis a raven,
the image of me,
A child, craven,
in misery,
If he should flit
'tween fear and dread
I shall but sit
upon his head.
©RJVHorton2019
Copyright © Robert Horton | Year Posted 2019
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